BEHIND THE THRONE
by silk1
Summary: What if Merlin and Guinevere were not the only people Arthur had met that night in the snow? His sister might prove to be his greatest asset and his most dangerous liability. THIS IS IN NO WAY A MARY SUE! New Chapter 20!
1. Default Chapter

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but my own imagination.

Notes: So was that just me, or where some things missing from the movie??? They said it was Arthur without the cloak of myth, but there was still plenty of myth in there and I just felt like some things were missing that would have made it more interesting. ALSO: please put a director's cut on the DVD!!!!!!

I´m from Germany so if there are errors in grammar and spelling, please be kind.

**_TRUTHSAYER_**

"Will you leave so soon, mylord?"

Sheathing his sword, Arthur turned around. Merlin and Guinevere were gone, as though the mist had swallowed them whole. But above him, on the hill stood another figure, almost invisible in the shadows of the forest. It was a woman's voice that called out to him, soft and melodious. Arthur shook his head, feeling tired and drained.

"I have had enough of these games for one night!" he answered, turning to walk away.

She laughed at that. It was a warm sound, wrapping around his senses like a comforting blanket.

"You were never fond of games. But I have travelled far to see you again …."

Arthur caught a glimpse of her tall, slender frame as the woman walked towards him.

He shook his head again. Merlin should have grown tired of ploys like these by now.

She implied that they knew each other, and there was something about her voice that unnerved him, because he could not place it, but he was quite sure that he'd remember meeting her….

She reached up, discarding the hood she was wearing with one graceful movement and Arthur could not resist the impulse of turning around to face her. She was almost as tall as he was, with long raven hair and dark eyes. Her features were not beautiful, but serious, as though she did not smile often. Still, there was a peculiar dignity about her, they way she stood in front of him. Pride ….he realized. The pride of someone who knew how to command others, to have her will done without ever having to justify her deeds or explain herself…..

She held herself like a queen.

Whoever she was, this woman held power, Arthur could see it. She was wearing it like her cloak.

"Who are you?"

"How soon you've forgotten me, Arthur." She said quietly, her voice holding something close to regret." I am the one who held when you cried, the one who dried your tears."

He looked her up and down. She might be a few years older than him, but by no means old enough to have been his nursemaid.

"I was still a child myself when I cared for you, little brother…." She reached out her hand.

Arthur stepped back from her as though she had struck him, his sword was suddenly in his hand and he could feel his fist clenching around it tightly.

So this was Merlins plan? This was the ploy? He laughed bitterly, pointing the tip of his sword in her direction.

"What deceit is this?" he hissed. He turned, looking around for any sign of Guinevere or the old man, but all he could see was darkness and mist.

"Arthur …"

"No!" he yelled, turning back to the woman." I will have no more words from you, from the woads or their leader. This treachery should be beneath him!"

Her face was still, calm like a frozen lake. She just looked at him, neither alarmed nor fearful in the face of his anger.

"My sister is dead!" Arthur told her harshly. "And the old man knows it! She died in a fire two years before the woads killed my mother!"

"She was my mother too!" She told him icily "She was my mother before the Pendragon came to take her away, to make her a good christian woman and father a son on her! Your father was good to me, he was a kind man. But no matter how much he tried, he could not forget that I was his wife´s bastard!"

"I will not listen to this!" Arthur said furiously. " My sister is dead!"

"They came for me Arthur, the woads, as you call them ….They came to take me away from the nunnery and when the nuns would not give me up, they took the convent by force and burned it to the ground." She continued her voice quiet and calm as though she was talking about somebody else.

"More lies!" He let his head hang, breathing deep to control his anger. "I´ve heard enough lies for one lifetime." Arthur let his sword glide back into its scabbard and started walking away. He could hear her sigh at his retreating back. The soft sound rode the wind like magic.

"You have a scar on your knee from when you were little. You played with your father's sword and cut yourself. The bleeding wouldn't stop, but you made me swear an oath never to speak of this to him. We cowered behind the stables until the sun went down. It was the first wound I ever stitched up, that is why the sutures gave you the scar."

Arthur stopped in mid -stride and looked back at her unmoving figure.

He had forgotten …until this day he had not thought about this in years. He had never told this story to his knights, not even to Lancelot. He did not like to talk about it, because it had reminded him of his half- sister and her untimely deaths.

"On the day I left for the nunnery, you cried, you held on to my skirts …."

"I was six years old…." He whispered. This could not be. He had loved her so fiercely and like everyone he had loved, she had left him too soon. A part of him wanted to believe, the other wanted to lash out at her, for bringing all this pain to the surface. Feelings had had buried years ago. But looking at this strange woman, Arthur could not help but feel a pull like the tide…and at least some of those emotions were not just brotherly.

"What kind of witchery is this?"

She moved over to him slowly, in a gliding, graceful stride until she stood in front of him.

"I am your sister Arthur. Your mother's daughter…."

"Morgianna…" He looked into her dark eyes in confusion and wonderment. He had not said her name out loud in years. Now the sounds rolled strange and alien from his tongue, felt wrong and hard in his mouth.

"What witchery is this?" he whispered again. Could this really be the woman his sweet natured, gentle sister had become? Arthur reached out one hand, carefully touching her raven hair.

"If all this is true, why now? Why did you never…."

"Because this is the time, Arthur…..this is the place and time for us to meet again. This is how it had to be."

He laughed bitterly. "Did Merlin tell you that?"

She gave him a wry, almost sad smile. "No. I do not need the words of the Taliesin to tell me what I see, when I can see for myself. I need you now, Arthur. He needs you, this country needs you!"

" Don´t …Morgianna…." He had heard enough of this from Merlin and Guinevere. The church had betrayed him, Rome ……he had been used for the purposes of others long enough and he had paid dearly for it. He would not be made an instrument in this conflict, not even by his long lost sister.

She took his hand, in her own. Despite the cold wind and the snowflakes falling around them, her hands were warm and soft. Looking at him earnestly, Arthur thought he could almost see grief in her eyes.

"I wish I could tell you to leave this place, my brother. To leave for Rome tonight, now and never return." Morgianna looked at her feet and for a moment her dark eyes were bright with unshed tears. When she looked up at Arthur again, her face was unreadable once more, only a slight tone in her voice hinted at the grief and sadness she might feel.

" But I have seen what must be done and it must be you ….there is no one else. Join with us, Arthur. You will be the greatest king this land has ever seen, in thousands of years your name will still be uttered in reverence."

Arthur narrowed his eyes, pulling back his hand.

"You are a witch …." He said slowly. "You think you have the sight…."

Morgianna pursed her lips. "I can see there is at least one person you would like to be joined with. She will be yours once you accept your path."

"I don´t take kindly to being manipulated." Arthur said with disdain, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "What they did to you, I do not know, but the girl I knew grew into a woman I do not recognize. I loved my sister…..there was a time when I thought that the only woman on this earth more beautiful than my mother, was you. You may still be my sister , but I do not know you and I don´t know if I can ….love you like I loved the girl you once were."

She returned his stare until a small smile came to her lips.

"You will come to love me again, Arthur, very much so. When I look at you I can see everything so clearly." She fell silent and it occurred to Arthur, that there were things she did not say, that she had stopped herself from saying.

"What else do you see?" The words had slipped out before he could think the better of it. Once spoken, he could not take them back. He was a Christian, a believer, but whether he really believed she had the sight was another matter. Something he himself was not sure of. The question seemed to catch her unaware. For a moment they just looked at each other, her serious, ageless features remained unmoved, but in her eyes grief glimmered just for an instant.

"You will love me, Arthur, but you will come to hate me too. You will never fear me, but you will fear the secret that I will keep. You will hate me for the things I will have to do and for the part I will play and yet, ….I will be your confidant. I will speak truth for you, even if you do not want to hear it. I saw your first breath brother, and I will be there when you draw your last."


	2. Her Brother´s Keeper

  
  
DISCLAIMER: I don´t own any of these characters ....there is no use in suing me, since I´m a poor student!!  
  
Notes: Laurelin ...thank you! I´m blushing here! Glad you like! You are party right about where I´m taking this!  
  
**_HER BOTHER´S KEEPER  
  
_**

Arthur stared into her eyes for a moment as the words sunk in. She was going to survive him, was that what she was saying? Her face was still unreadable, as though everything she felt was hidden inside. She returned his gaze intently, unflinching and Arthur felt as though he might be falling into the depth of those dark eyes, loose himself in her stare.  
  
He stepped back from her instinctively as he heard the clattering of weapons being drawn and yelling from the camp.  
  
" Go...." Morgianna said simply. "They need you now."   
  
His head swivelled back to her, the sister he had long presumed dead. He did not know who or what she had become, but there was a nagging feeling of familiarity he felt. He did believe she was indeed his siste, that he could not deny. He felt drawn to her like the tide felt the pull of the moon, she was all that was left of his family. Suddenly Arthur was worried that if he just left her standing here in the rising mist and the falling snow, she would be lost to him again.  
  
"Will I see you again or will you disappear like a shadow, like Merlin?"  
  
Morgianna´s lips curved upwards in the first real smile and the effect had him mesmerized for a moment, made his breath catch in his throat and his pulse speed up. She was not a beautiful woman in the common sense, her features were too serious for that, but seeing her smile at him like that ....again, after all this time, reminded Arthur why he had thought that his sister was the fairest of all. The smile lit up her whole face, made her eyes sparkle with some dark, uncanny power until her skin seemed to glow from within. Smiling like that, Morgianna was everything that was warm, beautiful and true.  
  
She laid her hands around his face affectionately and leaned in to kiss his forehead; to Arthur it felt almost as though she was giving him benediction. When she stepped back the smile was gone and her face was solemn once more.  
  
"I will be there when you need me, little brother. I will always be there in your hour of need. We will see each other again, this I promise you." The metallic sound of swords thrashing against each other cut through the night.  
  
" Go ......they need you."

* * *

"It must be done."   
  
Morgianna sat up on the fur covered bench she had been resting on. For a while she just watched the dancing shadows of flames that the fire of the hearth painted on the skin of the man sitting next to her. The silence grew long, but they had played this game too often and for too long. She knew that Merlin's patience was endless, as endless as his will was strong.  
  
"If I do this....." she finally said quietly. "I will not betray only him. I will betray myself, my own blood."  
  
Merlin looked up, searching her face. The fire in the hearth was the only light in the cavern.   
  
"It is the only way."   
  
She shook her head, defiantly.   
  
"Do you know what it is that you ask of me?"  
  
"It is not I who asks this of you, it is the call of the land. It is the only way"  
  
Morgianna leaned forward, staring into his eyes, her voice a strangled, angry whisper.  
  
"And it will undo us all!"  
  
"It was you who told me that you saw a child in his future."  
  
"Yes"  
  
"His child, not hers, you said!"  
  
"I was a child myself when I told you that, I did not know better ...I did not understand. I could not comprehend!"   
  
"That changes nothing."  
  
Morgianna shook her head, a bitter smile coming to her lips.  
  
"Did you tell her that? Will you tell her? She has a right to know!"  
  
A wave of guilt washed over Merlin´s face, so swiftly that one might have missed it.   
  
"It would only cause her pain." He said after a while.  
  
"It will cause us all so much more pain later. Guinevere is young, strong. She will love Arthur and she will want a family of her own." Morgianna whispered heatedly, pressing her hand to her forehead. "He is my brother!"  
  
"And he will be king!" roared Merlin, rising to his feet. She stared up at him as he towered over her. She was not a small woman, but his sudden outburst made her feel vulnerable. It had been a long time since anybody had dared to raise their voice at her. "He shall be king, that is his place, his path. Everything has its time!"  
  
"And this is my place, my path?" she hissed up at him furiously.  
  
He knelt down in front of her bench, gathering her hands in his own, squeezing them tightly enough to hurt just a little.  
  
"Have you ever not seen true, Morgianna?" he asked her, his voice low and imploring.  
  
"Has the sight ever eluded you, shown you lies just once?"  
  
She stared at him, from up close the harsh lines of his face seemed to deepen even more. He knew the answer, they both knew he did. Morgianna took a shuddering breath, closing her eyes, defeated.  
  
" No....."   
  
Merlin watched her face fall, her features filling with a sadness so profound that it erased everything else as her voice took on a light, dreamlike quality.  
  
"Two things I have seen that must come to pass. Two things that will build an empire and be the ruin of us all."  
  
" He will have need of you, my child."  
  
Morgianna´s eyes snapped open and she stood, pulling her hands out of his grip. He let her go, watched her wander over to the entrance of the cavern. Morgianna took deep, violent breaths, inhaling the cool air. She leaned one hand against the rough stone wall, staring out into the darkness of night.  
  
"But would he be willing to pay the price if he knew the cost? Would he be willing to pay, would you?"  
  
"He will need an heir."  
  
She shook her head. "You cannot have it both ways, old friend. What comes to pass of things to come and what not, is not your choice to make. I have told you what I saw. It will be our undoing, yours, mine ...and his. What makes you think you can change that part of the future, but not the other?"  
  
"There will be time enough to change the child's fate, time enough to turn the tide. Some sacrifices must be made."  
  
"Do not talk to me of sacrifice!"  
  
She turned to face him, crossing her arms in front of her chest to resist the urge to hug herself.  
  
"I know why you fight. I fought this war with you, for the good of this country, for its people, but where will it end, Merlin? Where is the line we draw in the sand, the boarder we will not cross to reach our goals?"  
  
"It must be done, Morgianna. You know it must be done."  
  
She turned her back to him again, looking out into the night. Her voice was a toneless whisper." No matter how high the cost will grow."


	3. So it begins

DISCLAIMER: I own none of the movie characters and don't claim to.....  
  
Notes: Thanks for the kind reviews! I am very glad that you enjoy this story!  
  
**_SO IT BEGINS  
_**  
"No....." The scream echoed over the battleground like thunder. Arthur sank to his knees, staring wide eyed at the motionless body of his friend. It could not be .....This was not supposed to happen.  
  
"It was my life....." he whispered harshly, "....my life you were supposed to take."  
  
Squeezing his eyes shut, Arthur let his sword glide out of his hand, covering his face.  
  
It could not be, it simply could not.....not Lancelot! He touched the crossbow bolt that protruded from his best friend's armour and for a moment, everything became quiet and still. The call of his knights, the smoke, and the battleground....everything faded until there was nothing left but quiet.  
  
"It was my life, God." He whispered, more to himself, " My life, not his ....."  
  
"Arthur...." A hand touched his shoulder and the world came rushing back in a wave of noise and heat. He looked up to find Gawain standing next to him, his eyes red from the smoke and uncried tears. He could see Guinevere hovering in the background, near Bors and Galahad. The bloody axe still in her hand, she was a stunning sight in her war paint, exuding a raw, unbridled power......a pagan goddess with blood spattered over her blue painted body. But in her eyes he could see the shock, the same grief he felt, as her eyes swept over Lancelot's immobile form.  
  
"There is nothing any of us could do, Arthur. Nothing we could have done, he is dead." Gawain said grimly. Arthur could not say what it was, but something about the knight's words bothered him, something tugging at his mind and yet the thought eluded him. Then he caught sight of Merlin's tall frame walking towards where they stood gathered around Lancelot. Stepping over the dead bodies of Saxon warriors as though they did not exist.......and it came to him.  
  
"Where is she?" Arthur yelled at his new ally, stumbling to his feet in the effort to reach him. Merlin planted his heavy staff firmly on the ground, nodding at Arthur as though he knew what he meant.  
  
Arthur looked around, into the astounded, grief-stricken faces of his friends, looking for the one face he could not find. He balled his hands to fists in frustration. " Morgianna ......" he yelled at the top of his lungs.  
  
"I have sent for her already, she will come." Merlin said simply.  
  
"Sent for whom?"  
  
"My sister."  
  
Gawain raised an eyebrow, staring at Arthur in confusion.  
  
"You said she was dead."  
  
"I was mistaken." Arthur answered, his voice hard as his angry gaze came to rest on the woad- leader.  
  
Morgianna wore no colours of war, no paint...nothing of the kind as she came towards them in long, swift strides, the hood of her cloak thrown back. And for the first time Arthur understood that this had to signified a different kind of status, her place in their midst.... the woads respectfully cleared a path for her, she walked past Merlin without a word. Guinevere acknowledged the other woman's arrival with a nod of respect and anticipation.

Morgianna stopped at Lancelot's feet, staring down at the lifeless knight for one endless moment. Her expression was even and calm, not betraying the sudden burst of fear that raged inside her. Looking down at his face, Morgianna could feel a cold hand squeezing her heart so that she couldn't even breathe. She knew his face. She had known his face before she had ever laid eyes on him on that day. It had haunted her in her dreams eversince she could remember. And now it scared her to death.  
  
Lancelot, the knight, the rake .....  
  
Morgianna looked at her brother before she kneeled, reaching across his knight's body to feel his pulse, splaying both hands over the chest of his armour.  
  
"What is she doing? He is dead!" Gawain whispered, exchanging glances with Bors and Galahad.  
  
"Not yet...." Morgianna said, rising to her feet. "But he is close. He is a strong one, his soul still lingers."  
  
"Witchcraft....." Galahad whispered to Bors. The big man shrugged his shoulders, unperturbed.  
  
"If that will save him, I say let her get to it!"  
  
Morgianna´s eyes wandered over the knights shortly, then she turned her attention to Arthur. He stood in front of her, almost close enough for their bodies to touch and swallowed hard.  
  
Galahad was right.....  
  
He was a Christian, he had always been and would always be a believer in the one true god...and yet he found himself turning to her. She had not lied; here she was in his hour of need. He did not ask her if or what she could do......in truth he did not want to know.  
  
"Save him." He whispered roughly, meeting her eyes. "My life for his. Save him, Morgianna and my life will be yours."  
  
"I do not want your life, Arthur!" She said tonelessly, her own control for once slipping. Her voice took on a strangled tone. She motioned at Bors and Galahad.  
  
"Take him inside, do it fast. There is nothing I can do for him here......take him to a room with a fireplace and no windows."  
  
Bors nodded, but Galahad and Gawain stood still, looking at Arthur for confirmation.  
  
"Do what she ask."  
  
Arthur took another step towards her, until their faces were only inches apart; his facial expression was raw with grief and fear.  
  
" I beg of you...." He whispered. "I know you are a witch of sorts, a seer, a wise woman...whatever it is the woads call you. I know you hold power that a good Christian should fear and despise, but .....Save him. Save him for me. Save his life and I will do anything you ask of me!"  
  
Morgianna lifted a hand to gently touch his face, neither the sweat nor the blood seemed to disturb her. "You love him dearly." It was a statement, not a question.  
  
"He is like a brother to me...." Morgianna nodded and let it go, her eyes meeting Guinevere's gaze for a moment, before the young warrior turned to follow Bors, Gawain and Galahad who carried Lancelot to the fort as fast and carefully as possible.  
  
"He will bleed to death if I do not care for him soon." Morgianna told Arthur, returning his intent look. "His condition is very close to death and often mistaken for it, like a deep sleep....." She took a deep breath, unfastening her cloak. One of the woads stepped forward, taking it from her.  
  
Morgianna turned back to her brother, her face betraying nothing, but there was hesitation and concern in her eyes.  
  
"Listen to me, my brother, for I will speak truth for you now and it will be your choice that will determine the future path of you and yours. If he dies.....here....today, you will spare yourself and many others a world of grief and pain. You spare yourself and him sadness and heartbreak. But if he lives, he will fight for you like no other. If he lives, he will fight and win wars for you, but he will never find peace and neither will anyone of us. I can save him, but you need to know this, it must be your choice, brother."  
  
She took a deep breath to calm her voice. "Choose Arthur."  
  
Arthur stared at her in shock, not sure if he could understand what she had shared with him. He knew he had asked her for help, but there was a part of him that still did not quite believe .....in seers and witches, the Christian part of him that would deny her power, even if he could feel it billowing around her like a cloak, mingle with his breath if he stood close enough. The part of him that was not sure if she could indeed see , if she could really save his friend, even if he was willing to cling to this hope.  
  
He could feel the anger stirring in him, anger about what she said, about her burdening him with a choice he did not really have! Lancelot was his friend, as dear as any brother.....he would not forsake him to spare himself pain or grief. Never.  
  
"Do what you can, Morgianna. Do your best or your worst .....whatever you have to."  
  
She nodded at him silently, as though she had always known what his answer would be.  
  
"I shall...."  
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It was dark when Morgianna stepped outside, drying her hands in a cloth.  
  
The knights and Guinevere looked up as she walked across the yard to where they were waiting. Arthur came towards her, meeting his sister halfway. Even though she had washed her hands, there was the faint smell of blood still clinging to her hair and clothes, the smell of war ...of blood and smoke and darker things.  
  
" He will live." She answered the question before they could even ask. They did not have to, Arthur realized it must have been written on their faces all too plainly.  
  
" He might not awake in the next few days, but he is strong. He will live."  
  
"See ...." Bors laughed, clapping Galahad´s shoulder hard enough to make the young man stumble forward." I told it would take more than a legion of dirty Saxons to finish Lancelot!"  
  
Guinevere smiled at the roaring laughter while Gawain´s eyes never left Morgianna. He nodded at her, so that it seemed he was bowing towards her slightly.  
  
"Thank you, lady." he said softly.  
  
"Let us celebrate and mourn our losses!" Bors yelled, putting one around each of the two other knights. "Wine ! We shall drink and cry and thank the gods."  
  
"I owe you a great debt." Arthur said gravely, looking at her intently.  
  
Morgianna shook her head, watching Guinevere who waited a few feet away for Arthur to join her.  
  
"No you don't." she returned in a soft, but grim tone of voice. She looked up to Arthur with an unreadable expression. " There will be no debts between us, Arthur. This I did for you ...not for this country, not for my people or Merlin. I did it for you and you alone. I did it because you are my brother and I love you." Her dark eyes bore into his as she put her hand on his arm, squeezing slightly. Morgianna leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on his cheek and to whisper into his ear. "But never forget in all the years to come that it was your choice."


	4. From The Ashes

  
  
Disclaimer: I don´t own the characters of this movie ......  
  
Notes: Thanks for reading and enjoying .....I just can´t seem to let this go!  
  
Glad you like it!!  
  
**__**

**__**

**_From The Ashes  
_**  
In the early hours of the morning Merlin walked out across the battle ground. The woad- soldiers , whose charge it was to gather and burn the corpses of their Saxon enemies, looked on in silence as their leader walked past them, further out into the fields.  
  
When his march finally ended, the man rammed his stuff into the earth, so that it would stand out of its own accord. He laid his head back and watched the night's darkness drain out of the sky ever so slowly, watched the pale light of morning pass over the horizon. Unmoving he stood like that until a wild, harsh cry signalled the arrival of what Merlin was looking for.  
  
The hawk circled above the battlefield, his high pitched cries the only sound that broke the silence. Merlin stood motionless, waiting for the bird of prey's circles to grow smaller and smaller. Then he lifted his arm up, holding it in front of himself. He did not feel the pain the sharp talons were causing him, digging into his arm as the hawk landed with a shriek. The bird cocked its head to the side, crying out again, watching the man eagerly.

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"Arthur....." The door was pushed open, banging loudly as it connected with the wall and Gawain burst into the room with the force of crashing thunder.  
  
Half awake, but already in a fighting stance, Arthur jumped from the bed he had shared with Guinevere. The young woman had rolled out of the bed on the other side, grabbing for her weapons with one hand and for a cloak to cover her naked body with the other.  
  
Gawain grasped the situation with one look that widened his eyes. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at them for a heartbeat, and then turned away.  
  
"Forgive me ...I did not think.....I ..." He shook his head.  
  
The blazing sunlight that poured through the opened door hurt Arthur's eyes. He squeezed them shut with a suppressed groan, the tension draining from his body now that he knew there was no immediate danger. He could hear Guinevere's throaty chuckle while she draped her cloak around her, sitting back down on the still warm bed.  
  
"What is it Gawain, what news has you so agitated?"  
  
His eyes were getting used to the bright morning light, but Arthur could feel a splitting headache starting to throb behind his temples.  
  
Gawain took a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself before he turned to face his commander. Arthur could see that it was not the sight that had greeted him, which had the young man so troubled. Gawain was not a prude, none of his knights were ....the sight of a naked woman climbing from Arthur's bed was not a sight unknown to him. They had fought together, drunk together .....And often wooed the same pretty face for a night of passion.  
  
His face took on a concerned expression as he waited for Gawain to regain his composure.  
  
"What is it?" Arthur repeated his question.  
  
"It's gone ....He's gone, they took him ...." The words tumbled from Gawain´s mouth in a breathless whisper, as though he was unable to control his voice.  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"Tristan ...his body, it's gone. We .....We meant to prepare him for the burial rites this morning....the cremation, but he was gone. They took his body, Arthur ....."  
  
Arthur's eyebrows knit together.  
  
"Who ....who would do such a thing? Who took him?"  
  
"The woads!" Gawain yelled, balling his fists. "Who else do you think?"  
  
"They took his body .....They built a tent in front of the fort, on the battleground."  
  
"They took his body there?"  
  
Gawain nodded. "Bors is ready to draw his sword, he's been screaming at them but they will not let him pass. He's going to kill somebody soon."  
  
"Why would they ....." Arthur turned around to look at Guinevere. She returned his questioning gaze, keeping her expression carefully blank. He could not decide if she knew what this was all about, but suspicion bloomed in him that the beautiful warrior knew more about this then she let on.  
  
He pressed his lips together angrily while he pulled on his breeches and long linen shirt that fell almost to his knees. He grabbed his sword, storming out of the door with Gawain trailing behind.  
  
"Find my sister....." he ordered grimly. "I will get to the bottom of this."

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Morgianna opened the door to the windowless room, startled to find the Arthur's redheaded knight in front of her. She glanced over her shoulder into the dark room, filled with the smell of herbs and wood, and back to Gawain.  
  
"Lady..."  
  
"He has not awakened yet. He has lost a lot of blood." She said in her even voice.  
  
Gawain´s eyes followed her look to where Lancelot was still resting motionlessly. For a moment he did not know what to say ...or to think. He had almost expected her to be gone ....to be in that tent. But here she stood in front of him, the light grey of her dress made her hair seem like a river of blackness flowing down her shoulders. She looked calm, collected and controlled ...almost serene. Morgianna caught the look on his face, her eyes narrowed.  
  
"That is not why came." She stated quietly, pulling the wrap that she had slung around her shoulders tighter. Gawain pressed his lips together, unsure what to do.  
  
He did not know this woman. She had saved one of his friend's, that much was true, but she was a woad.....not too long ago an enemy. He was not sure if he could trust her, even if Arthur's trust in her seemed to grow, despite the fact that he had presumed her dead for years and she had resurfaced quite unexpectedly .....And some might say conveniently.  
  
"No ..." he finally answered. Morgianna threw another attentive look over her shoulder before she stepped outside, closing the door behind her.  
  
"Arthur is asking for you .....He wants me to take you to him."  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
"Out on the battlefield......it seems your people took something they had no right to." Gawain could not quite keep the anger out of his voice, no matter how hard he tried.  
  
She arched one dark, fine eyebrow at him, her eyes searching his face intently. Waiting for him to elaborate.  
  
"What was taken from you?"  
  
He looked straight into her face.  
  
"A body......a corpse, the dead body of our fallen friend."  
  
"Go ...." A breathless Guinevere whispered, suddenly appearing behind Gawain.  
  
It was plain to see she had dressed herself in a hurry, the moss green dress revealing one pale, smooth shoulder, her hair still in disarray. She looked vibrant and striking in the morning sun. "You can go.....I will watch him."  
  
Morgianna looked into the young woman's eyes for a moment. Gawain stood still, watching the silent exchange between them. For an instant it seemed as though something unspoken flickered in Morgianna's eyes, but just when he thought it was there, the moment was over.  
  
Arthur's sister nodded, stepping away from the door.  
  
"Take me to him."  
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Arthur's head snapped around in time to watch Gawain approach with his sister in tow. His forehead creased up with impatience and frustration. Woad- warriors surrounded the tent like a living wall. He could hear drums, murmuring and singing, see smoke rise from inside the tent, but no matter how loud he yelled, Merlin would not be disturbed. Next to him Bors was growing more agitated by the minute......it had been an effort to get the burly man to resheath his sword.  
  
"What is this business?" He demanded to know as soon as his sister was in hearing distance. Morgianna´s eyes flickered from him to the tent and back.  
  
"This is not my doing." She told him simply, pulling the wrap tightly around her shoulders.  
  
"Merlin is in there. They said they were healing him!" Galahad cut in, "When we first arrived here, they said they were trying to heal him.......but Tristan is dead! Dead! There is no remedy for that!"  
  
"Said his armour took most of the damage!" Bors interceded roughly.  
  
"That is a lie!" Galahad yelled." I saw him; he was almost cleaved in two ....."  
  
"They got some of them druids in there. We saw them all trooping in behind their leader."  
  
"Do you know what they are doing in there?" Arthur asked his sister. She turned to look at him carefully. She could hear the singing too, the drums ....She knew that Arthur already knew what was going on in that tent; she could read it in his face, his eyes. She could see the horror, the fear, but that was not the whole truth. It wasn't the idea of what was done in that tent that made Arthur so angry, that brought fear and horror to his heart. It was the fact that he was willing to let it go, to condone it ...if it worked. Good Christian that he was, Arthur could not help but shrink back from practices such as these, but deep in his heart, he equally hoped and feared that it might work.  
  
"Tell me, Morgianna..." Arthur requested bleakly "Tell me what they are doing to my knight."  
  
"Do you want your friend back?" she asked plainly, her eyes wandering from him to each of the gathered knights in turn.  
  
"Sorcery......" Galahad whispered, meeting her gaze doubtfully.  
  
"So they really are all witches.....these woads, witches and sorcerers the bunch of them!" Bors mumbled.  
  
"It can be done." Morgianna returned, looking at her brother again. She kept her voice as neutral as she could make it. "It can be done. But there is a price to be paid."  
  
He looked at her, taking a step back to take her all in, looking at her as though he had never really seen her before. She could read his thoughts as they chased over his face like storm clouds.......his doubt. For the first time he seemed to wonder how much power she really wielded, what kind of understanding she possessed to have knowledge of things such as this......what she was capable of. It chilled her to the bone, but her face showed none of it.  
  
"Another choice I'll have to make?" he asked her angrily.  
  
"It think it is already done. Merlin wants you to be indebted to him. He wants to bind himself to you, forge a pact for this land. This is how he chooses to prove his loyalty to the man he wants to make his king."  
  
Arthur shook his head, cursing under his breath. He balled his hands to fists to keep himself from hitting something...or someone.  
  
"At what price? At what consequences?" he yelled.  
  
"Arthur...." Morgianna whispered. Aware that all the knights' eyes were fixed on her and her brother, she crossed the short distance between them. She laid her hands around his, prying them open until she could hold them between their bodies.  
  
"He would not attempt this if your friend's spirit had moved on. This is not your price to pay, but Merlin's. It will cost him years of his life, but if he is willing to give it, you should not question the merit. Not if it gives you back another friend."  
  
He stared past her towards the tent for a moment, and then pulled his hands from her grip. She let him go.  
  
"Tell him .....I want to see him!" Arthur ground out and left without looking back. His knights exchanged weary glances, watching Arthur's retreating back, then hesitantly followed their commander back to the fort.

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It was night again when the drumming and the singing died down. Merlin stepped out of the tent, his clothes drenched in herb scented steam, sweat still running from his brow and naked arms. Morgianna waited silently under the thick branches of an oak tree. As he came closer, she could see that his hair had turned completely white and the lines on his face had deepened.  
  
"He breathes." He announced, nodding to himself.  
  
"You should have let him go." Morgianna said tonelessly. " It would have been kinder to spare him .....The sorrow of a love that will haunt him forever."  
  
"That is not for us to decide." Merlin countered, leaning heavily on his staff.  
  
Morgianna´s eyes narrowed at him.  
  
"Tell me, old friend .....Why is it that all I see of late is misery and betrayal and war and bloodshed?"  
  
"There are other things you see, child."  
  
"Not enough, not nearly enough." She said, leaving him alone under the branches of the tree.


	5. Succession

DISCLAIMER: Same old, same old ...still don´t own them.

Notes: Thanks for the nice reviews. I did read " The mists of Avalon" and took a few pointers from that, but I mainly drew inspiration from the legends and the myth. Glad you like it anyway. There is a lot still to come ....

**_Succession_**

With a violent, curdled breath Tristan regained consciousness, jerking upright in the bed his body had been resting on. Every breath he took sounded like the attempt to scream in his own ears as the memory of the battle came back to him. It was hard and painful to breathe, as though a heavy weight was pressing his ribs inward.......and he remembered the screaming, the clashing of swords, the taste of blood in his mouth ...his own blood, his last sight ....the circling hawk high above his head. His hand went to his chest, his fingertips feeling slightly numb as they moved over the long, jagged scar that went from his shoulder across his chest to the side of his abdomen. The tissue felt slick and raw under his hand, like a welt rising above his skin......a high pitched shriek brought his attention to his right: Above his head the hawk perched on a shelf, watching him eagerly with gleaming eyes, bobbing its head up and down like a silent greeting.

Tristans eyes shot around the dark room; no windows ...the only light coming from the glowing embers in the fireplace set in the wall. The air felt cool on his skin and smelled of herbs and burning wood. He could make out another bedstead and a motionless figure laid out there. It took him a moment to realize that the wheezing sound that echoed from the walls was the sound of his own breathing; his throat was dry and aching. A violent cough shook his body, forcing him to lean forward.

"You should rest .....your body will need time." Tristan looked at the woman through the dark strands of hair that always fell into his face, fixing her with a predator´s stare. She held an earthen cup out to him, seemingly undisturbed by his intense stare or the fact that he was naked, his nudity only partially covered by a blanket.

"Drink ....it will ease the pain." Her voice was soothing and gentle.

The hand that held the cup was slender with long, delicate fingers. He took the cup from her hesitantly, smelling the liquid it held before he brought it to his lips and drank. The fluid ran down his parched throat, cooling the ache.

"The Saxon killed me." Tristan said after he had emptied the cup. His voice did not waver as he talked about his own demise. It sounded neutral, a simple statement of facts.

His eyes never left her while he talked, watching her for signs that might betray her identity or purpose. But her face, her whole demeanour was schooled to conceal any trace of emotion, as though her mind conspired with her body to hide her own thoughts. Tristan understood that just by looking at her. He could tell from his own experience.....nobody could read him either. But there were other things, hints of authority and influence: The way she stood, held herself ....and the power she wielded ..it had been in her voice. Tristan could feel her power filling the air like the scent of snow to come......

The hawk shrieked, batting his wings impatiently. She took the cup from him, wordlessly refilling it from a heavy jug.

"I was dead. Now I am not." He stated simply, taking the cup from her hand once more.

The woman looked at him with dark, knowing eyes that seemed to hold an ocean of possible answers and explanations. Tristan drank again, nodding at her. There was nothing to be said...no words to be spoken, because some things could not be put into words. Some things were better left unsaid, unquestioned.......her eyes, her silent, accepting gaze conveyed that to him and Tristan understood.

Morgianna looked up at the hawk who was watching them with obsidian eyes, cocking his head to his side.

"A beautiful bird." She said. Tristan followed her eyes, watching the animal for a moment. Then they both looked back at each other and he nodded again. Her understanding ran deep enough .....being gifted herself, she did not fail to the trace it in others.....even if his abilities were incomparable to hers. She could see the connection between animal and man, ......it was what had made his restoration possible.

"My path is not over."

She shook her head, refilling his cup for the third time.

"No."

Tristan would have sighed, but that would have been weakness. He felt numb and empty inside, not overjoyed and peaceful as he should have. There would be no peace for him.....not yet, maybe not ever. The only sign of the sadness and desolation he felt was the tightening of his grip around the cup. He could have raged and screamed, but what good would it do? It would change nothing .....there was nothing to do but accept and move on. It would have a purpose and it would reveal itself to him .......

His eyes brushed over the motionless form of his friend on the other bed. Only the slow rising and falling of Lancelot´s chest served as proof that the knight was still alive.

"Will he live?"

"He was not as badly wounded as you." She said, knowing he would understand the implication.

"Who are you?" Tristan finally asked, leaning his back against the wall because sitting upright was tiring him.

" Morgianna...."

His eyes narrowed behind the dark hair that almost hid his face from view. "Arthur's sister?"

Arthur had mentioned her death only once, on a dreary, drunken night and that had been the end of it. He rarely talked about the family that had been lost to him ......father, mother .....sister, dead and gone .......

The right side of his mouth twitched into a half- hearted, ironic smile." And who brought you back from the dead?"

Her careful, noncommittal expression never changed, but the look in her eyes was solemn, almost grave. "I was abducted from the convent, not killed. The ones who took me needed me alive."

"And you went willing? Right into the arms and bed of a woad-chieftain's son, perhaps?"

Morgianna laughed at that, and Tristan took notice of how the emotional display changed her whole appearance. For an instant, her serious, blank expression fell away from her features; her face glowed with some inner light and her power seemed to radiate outward, filling the room like heat. Just as fast that light was gone and her face was empty once more.

"I was never married." She told him simply.

" Arthur´s father wanted to send me to school, so I could learn to become a good, Christian maid. That is why he chose the convent for me .....He did not want me to take the holy orders. He just wanted me to learn."

Tristan could not help but chuckle dismissively. He could still feel the pull of her power, it rode the air like the portent of a storm. The irony was not lost on him.

"So he send you to a convent and instead you become a sorceress."

Morgianna put the jug down on a table in front of the fireplace. She looked straight into his eyes. "My mother was a Briton, as was my aunt. They took me because she sent for me ...."

Tristan´s eyes narrowed even more, suspicion rising in him as he watched her standing in front of the fire. The fact that he had called her a sorceress had not bothered her. She had taken it like someone who was used to superstition, who had been called worse things .... The glowing embers shone a flickering light on one side of her face. He could not see her shut away in a convent, kneeling and praying.

"Why take a risk like that for one girl alone? Or did you send word for her because you where unhappy?"

Morgianna gave him the smallest hint of a smile she busied herself with grinding herbs into a fine powder.

" No." she answered, shaking her head slightly as though for emphasis." I loved my family, my brother...." The thought of Arthur crossed her mind, running through the fields as a little boy, standing in front of her in the mist and snow, a man grown......

"Arthur´s father was good to me. He was a kind man and he loved my mother dearly. But my aunt was growing old and she needed me .....She needed a successor."

Tristan cradled the cup in his lap, brushing the hair out of his face slowly, to take a long, hard, unobstructed look at her. She was tall, willowy and moved with a secure grace.

Her raven hair was parted in the middle as it fell straight down to her hips. His inquisitive look did not go unnoticed by her, but she did not comment.

"Did you?" he asked, his voice low.

"What?"

"Become her successor?"

Morgianna looked at him, her level gaze never wavering.

Tristan laid his head to the side like the hawk had done earlier, his hair falling over his eyes again. This time he did not brush the strands away.

"What was your aunt´s name?"

Morgianna returned his stare for the longest time, her face betraying nothing. She looked as calm and composed as anyone could be. Tristan´s eyes were all for her and it occurred to him that Arthur might not have come to the same conclusion as he. He could read it in her eyes that her brother had not asked her yet, it had not even occurred to him.

Even though they had spent fifteen years in this cold, misty country, most of them did not know all that much about the Briton's tradition, their culture or religion. A lot of the woad´s myths, customs and rituals had remained a mystery to them, but he knew enough to put the pieces together.

"Who was your aunt?" Tristan asked her again, his voice barely a whisper. He leaned forward slightly, the movement gave him the air of a stalking, dangerous predator again.

Morgianna crossed her arms in front of her chest, giving him a small, almost wistful smile that made her appear more sad then cheerful.

"Viviane...."

Tristan nodded., closing his eyes for an instant. He had heard that name before, whispered in hushed tones and reverence .....much like Merlin´s. When he opened his eyes again again, she held his gaze.

"She had another name, this aunt of yours, does she not? Another name the woads used to speak of her?"

Morgianna nodded silently.

" The lady of the lake."


	6. Shadow

DISCLAIMER: See other chapters!

NOTES: This is very short, but it is very late and I'm really tired. I'll make it up tomorrow, I promise!

Thanks to all who read and review: I cherish your interest and am very glad you like the story! Thank you.

This chapter is dedicated to my friend Franzi…..who will move to Glasgow soon.

**_SHADOW_**

They were sitting around the fire like they had always done; eating, drinking …..Laughing. But there was no laughter now ….they were too aware of the fact that there was just the three of them. No jesting was going to change that. Galahad sat on a thick tree trunk, gnawing on an apple. His eyes were fixed on Gawain whose face was tight with concentration. They were once again trying to best each other in throwing knifes at a tree several feet away.

Arthur was inside, meeting with a suddenly white haired Merlin and a few other woad –chieftains. No doubt he would have rather stayed to drink and talk with his men …..

Guinevere had gone to see Arthur's sister and to inquire after Lancelot, promising to bring them any news she might obtain.

Bors did his best to ignore the unnerving sound of steel burying into wood over and over as he was pondering what to do about his lover and all his bastards. Should he really go home and take them with him, or should he stay?

Now that Arthur was likely to become a king, his commander might have use for a strong arm like his. The life of a warrior was all he knew, all he was good at……and there was really nothing to go home to in Sarmatia, where he was concerned ….all his family was dead and buried. Just like poor Dagonet ….

The ear deafening screech of a hawk brought Bors out of his sad reverie the same moment that Galahad threw his knife. The bird flew low over the fire, missing Gawain´s head by an inch, and circled around them once before it finally perched down in the low branches of the tree…..watching them with bright, alert eyes. Another knife hissed by Galahad, close enough that he could feel the draft of the spinning blade on his cheek. They both whirled around to find the blade firmly stuck on the hilt-back of Gawain´s knife. They stared at each other open-mouthed, turning around slowly, searching the darkness around them. Bors got to his feet, drawing his sword as Tristan stepped into the circle of the fire's red light. The flames painted dancing shadows across his skin, as though the fire had come alive and was reaching out for the slender man. They had not heard his approach …..He was still as quiet and imperceptible as ever.

"How do you do that?" The words tumbled from Gawain´s mouth in a breathless whisper. They all stood frozen, staring at the friend they had seen falling, whose body they had carried from the battlefield, not sure if they could trust their eyes. Their faces were anxious, torn between the joy of seeing him alive again, shock and doubt of what had been done to him, what he might have become.

Tristan took them all in for the time of a few heartbeats, noticing the awe as well as the silent terror in their expressions. Then he shrugged, as though he did not notice any change in their behaviour towards him, the hint of a secretive, bemused smile playing over his lips.

"I told you once before …aim for the middle."

Bors stared at the other man, perplexed, before he threw his head back and exploded into his loud, contagious belly- laugh. The other two knights exchanged baffled glances, but the tension was broken and they quickly joined Bors in his laughter. They hurried over to Tristan, hugging him to them in bone crushing embraces, clapping him on the shoulders.

"It's really you, isn't it?" Galahad asked wondrously looking him up and down.

"Where you expecting somebody else?" Tristan returned with good humour while Bors patted him down front and back as though to make sure his friend was complete and not missing a limb. Once he was satisfied with his findings, he patted Tristan's back hard enough to make the smaller man stumble.

"Good old Tristan!" he yelled. "Too stubborn even to stay dead!"

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"So…" Gawain said hesitantly after they had settled down around the fire, handing around a jug filled with warm, honeyed wine.

"What do you think of her?"

Tristan watched his friend's face carefully, caressing the hawk's feathers in slow, reassuring strokes. The bird nibbled at his finger affectionately.

"The woman?" he asked after a while.

"Arthur's sister." Galahad clarified, taking a deep sip from the jug. "The one he called upon to save Lancelot…." His eyes widened shortly, realizing what he was saying……it had not been meant as a reminder that Merlin had practically brought Tristan back from the dead. He did not even want to ponder that fact ever again ……Galahad looked at his friend and then quickly looked away. Staring into he fire he took another deep swig of wine before handing the jug over to Bors.

"He thought her dead, but it seems he was deceived on that account. Now that she is back, he seems unwilling to let her go away again." Gawain said thoughtfully

"She's all the family he's got left….."

"But does it not strike you as odd that she returns to him now …like this?"

"She's a witch, that is what she is …." Bors cut in, wiping the wine that had spilled from the jug off his chin. He did not condemn her for it. If it would save Lancelot's life, just like Merlin's arts had brought Tristan back to them, Bors did not care about the circumstances. What counted for him was the result. Still ..He liked to call things by their names.

Tristan still watched them carefully, with his dark, attentive gaze that never failed to see details of importance.

"She's more than that", he said slowly, quietly. All eyes turned to him as they waited for him to elaborate, but Tristan just took a sip of wine. He closed his eyes for a moment, relishing the sweet, full taste of the alcohol mixed with honey …the warmth spreading through his body, making him indeed feel alive again.

"What makes you say that?" Galahad asked.

Tristan mulled over his answer for a while, trying to choose his words carefully.

"I do not think there is deceit in her actions towards Arthur ….but there are secrets that she keeps. She holds power Bors, that much is true…but there is more to it."

"Like what?"

Tristan let the hawk fly, watching the bird until it was swallowed by the darkness of the night.

"She's their seer, their priestess ….and she is afraid."


	7. Crescent

DISCLAIMER: See other chapters

Notes: Thanks for reading and for the encouraging reviews! Thank you very much! It's good to know sometimes that I'm not just writing for myself. There is still a lot more to cover ..So let's get to it.

**_CRESCENT_**

"Tristan...." The words held all the wonderment and shock that he had seen in his friend's faces before, but it also held the same tinge of fear and suppressed horror. They all turned to where Arthur had stopped in mid- stride, standing just outside the circle of light the fire was throwing out into the dark night. Their gazes locked and there seemed to be a silent exchange between the two men that needed no words being spoken. Arthur came forward just as the knights were getting to their feet. He grabbed the smaller man's arms, hugging Tristan to him. Arthur put his hands around his face, looking him over in amazement.

"My friend..." he said roughly, once he had succeeded in suppressing his dark thoughts about how Tristan had been returned to them. Whatever he had feared had not come to pass; there was nothing alien or foreign in the young scout's eyes or demeanour. So Arthur would lock away those fears.... Deep inside his mind and never think of it again.

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He awoke to the sensation of cool water on his skin. Someone was washing his face with a wet, soft piece of cloth. Cool fingers touched his face gently, moving over his skin in caressing lines, smoothing over his eyebrows, his cheeks.....lingering over his lips, carefully smoothing the hair back from his forehead. Almost as if someone was trying to imprint his features in their mind by mere touch.....

At first the sensations felt as though they were reaching him from far away, as though his body and mind had gone numb. But they became clearer, more defined as he was slowly coming back to himself, drifting to the surface from the grasp of sweet, dreamless sleep.

Lancelot's eyelids fluttered and he opened his eyes slowly. His vision was blurry for the time his eyes adjusted to the semi- darkness around him, but the clearer his vision became, the clearer became the sight of hazel eyes staring into his. Guinevere leaned over him, blond hair framing her beautiful features, her warm hand resting on his forehead, her breath mingling with his.

"Lancelot ...." She whispered, breath caught in her throat. Her eyes rested on his face and for one breathless, powerful moment they stared into each others eyes from up close, before she blinked in realization and turned her head towards something beyond his line of vision.

"He's awakened......He's awake ...." The relief and excitement in Guinevere's voice were there for everyone to hear. There were steps, the rustling of clothing and an unknown, soothing voice from a few feet away.

"Fetch Arthur ...."

Guinevere looked back at her for a moment, her face beautiful set in a smile that managed to be both pleased and bitter- sweet. She let her eyes wander over Lancelot again as she looked back to the bed once more before hurrying to bring the news of his recovery to his friends.

Morgianna could feel the young woman's parting look glide over the knight like a caressing hand. Guinevere was no schemer, no actress schooled in deceit and trickery. Her lively features could not contain pretence; they betrayed her emotions like a mirror.

There was such tenderness in her gaze that it stole Morgianna´s breath.

The room almost dark, but for the warm light of the fire. She felt, more than heard his unrest, his belligerent attempt to sit up on his bed.

"Don't struggle ...it will only become harder, give it time." She said softly, walking over to the bedstead after reaching blindly for the earthen jug and cup from the table. She sat it both down on the floor next to the bed, helping him lean his back against the wall. He looked at her in confusion and suspicion. Morgianna met his rain-grey eyes with her calm, controlled expression....looking into the face she had seen so many times before and finding it handsome.

If he would have died, she would have never seen his face fill with hesitation and impatience, and yet .....Looking at him made her chest tight.

Lancelot had to try twice until he could force the words from his dry throat.

"What happened?"

"You were hurt ...obviously." She answered, avoiding his inquisitive stare while she picked up the jug, filling the cup.

"Can you drink?" He stared at her as though she had challenged him. It did not make him less attractive Morgianna noted against her will, the anger and indignation only served to make his eyes blaze in defiance. Anger and frustration simply made his handsome looks more fetching.

Lancelot ....the rogue, the fighter, the seducer ....now she could see why and it made her heart ache. He took the cup, making the effort to conceal that his hands were shaking from exhaustion and weakness. Morgianna´s head turned to the door in a quick, sudden movement that unnerved Lancelot. She looked at the closed door as though listening for something. Still holding the jug, she rose to her feet in a fluent motion. The grace in it caught Lancelot unaware and made him take a closer look at her when she stepped away from the bed. There was something about this woman that irritated him, even though he was unable to define it or put into words what bothered him. There was something familiar about her, the way she moved, the distant look in her eyes......

On the one hand he could have sworn that until this day their paths had never crossed. She was not beautiful enough to have ever struck his fancy, though he would remember seducing her ....he never forgot his conquests, however brief they might be. On the other hand she was recognizable none the less. She had an air about her that struck a cord of memory in him .....Her regal demeanour, something about her eyes, her features was just not right ...

The door burst open with a loud bang and Bors stormed into the room with Gawain and Galahad on his heels, his eyes wide, his voice loud as thunder.

"Gods save you Lancelot! " he laughed as he grabbed the other man's face in his hands, pressing a sound kiss on Lancelot's curly head.

"You, my friend, would have made for a very ugly corpse!" Gawain told him, his broad smile proof of how pleased he was with his friend's recovery. The other two laughed in unison as Tristan strode through the door after them, nodding an almost imperceptible greeting to the woman who had retreated into the far away corner of the room, to give his friends more space.

" You'd better stay alive and watch that pretty face of yours!" bellowed Bors.

Lancelot managed a grin, still cradling the now empty cup in his hands.

"The one your lady love is so fond of?"

Bors stared at him for a moment, then burst out into another bout of laughter. He nudged Galahad´s side with his elbow hard enough to knock the air from the younger man's lungs.

"Cheats death once and already back to his old ways!"

" You must be feeling well indeed to taunt Bors like that again." Galahad chimed in, rubbing his ribs as he tried to put some distance between himself and Bors´ elbow.

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"This we will agree on Merlin....and there will not be argument or discussion about it." Arthur said severely, rising from his chair.

"Pray to whomever you like. I will no less force my beliefs upon you and your people as I have enforced them on my knights .....But what you have done with Tristan, you will never do again!"

"I gave you back a friend ..." Merlin reminded Arthur. He looked at him, nodding. His voice took on an even more grave tone.

"I know and I will not forget it, but it will never be done again. I'll have you swear to that."

"You might have need of my arts if ..."

"No ifs ..." Arthur shook his head, raising his voice. "You want me to lead, then follow me in this. You want me to be king? Then I will command this of you....."

Merlin stared at him for a few heartbeats and a satisfied, triumphant smile came to his lips as Arthur realised what he had said. They both looked at each other and Merlin nodded his head again, bowing ever so slightly towards Arthur.

"As you command it shall be .....My liege...."

Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Guinevere who threw open the door. She looked at him, her eyes wide, and a wild joyous smile on her pretty face.

" He's awakened!" she said breathlessly.

It was all it took for answer to swallow his words.

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She stood off to the side, half shrouded by the darkness and watched it all with her dark, observant eyes. The fire- shadows gave her face a haunted look as they moved across her face, but in the blink of an eye it was gone, as though an invisible hand had wiped her features clean of emotion and all that remained was her serious, distanced expression.

This was the moment she had dreaded for all this time.... She half- turned away from the bed, where the knights were jesting and laughing with relief over Lancelot's recovery. Closing her eyes and took a deep breath.

" Here ...why don't you put that pretty face to a better use and thank the lady whose craft and capable hands saved your sorry life! Maybe you can charm her ...." Bors rumbled, his voice still filled with laughter.

Their heads turned while their eyes sought her out, all except Tristan. Without a word, or looking over his shoulder to see if she was indeed still in the room, his arm reached back and he held his hand out to her. Morgianna took the offered hand and slowly stepped into their midst.

"I owe you my life?" Lancelot enquired with an edge of doubt in his voice.

She shook her head, looking at each of them in turn.

"You owe me nothing. What I did, I did for love of my brother...."

"And I will always hold you dear, because you returned my dearest friend to me." Arthur said quietly, coming through the door with Guinevere at his side. Morgianna turned to look into her brother's face, his voice sounded choked even though he tried his best to hold in check. His eyes were so very bright, that she knew it was uncried tears that made them shine. He took her hand, kissing it before he leaned forward to place another kiss on her brow.

His knights stepped aside and Lancelot pursed his lips, embarrassed now that everybody was making such a fuss over his survival.

"Did you think you would get rid of me this easily?" he asked Arthur, making light of the situation. " It takes a lot more than a legion of Saxons to get me off your back, my friend."

Morgianna watched her brother laugh as he sat down on the edge of the bed. She turned and left the room, walking with fast, long strides until she was outside. There she laid her head back, deeply inhaling the cool night air, while she looked up at the stars.

She did not hear Tristan approach with the soundless movements of a seasoned scout, but she felt the brush of air as he came to stand next to her. He did not say a word, just watched her, studying her profile, the outline of her tall, straight frame against the night, every intake of breath. Her expression was composed, serene ....not giving off any trace of what might weigh on her mind.

This was what she did, he understood. She had been trained to not make her face or body a mirror of her emotion, trained to be unreadable and completely removed from others. It was her fortress, her stalwart.....her protection. She could lie with her body and face ....maybe even with magic. Only her eyes betrayed her sometimes......holding her feelings like a cup filled to the brim.

"I cannot escape who I am .....Just like you could not choose your own end." She finally said quietly, without looking at him.


	8. Common Ground

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, so please don't sue ...I make no money with this!

NOTES: Hehehe .....Thanks for the reviews! I am aware that Guinevere indeed is a schemer, but she's not very good with hiding her emotions....which is what I wanted to say!

I hope you still enjoy this, cause I love writing it!

**_COMMON GROUND_**

"You told me your sister was dead...." Lancelot said after they had all left the room one after another, leaving only Arthur and Lancelot behind. It was as though they had all felt Arthur's need to spend some time alone with the best friend he had come so close to loosing forever. They had all picked up on it all too clearly, even Guinevere had known that this was not the time to stand between those two. So she had followed the knights, kissing Arthur softly on the lips before departing. Lancelot's face gave nothing away as he watched their parting.

Now his eyes were all for Arthur, his scrutinizing gaze fixed upon his friend's face.

"I was deceived on that account ...."

"Or so it seems...." Lancelot returned his voice bland. Arthur had always been too trusting; too willing to believe in the good of every man and woman he met. It had always struck Lancelot as an odd quality in a warrior such as Arthur, and sometimes .....Like now....it worried him.

"She is not a decoy the woads used to lure me into compliance with their plans, if that is what you mean to warn me about." Arthur said quietly.

The thought of loosing Lancelot had scared Arthur more than the thought of loosing his own life. Just talking to his friend like this reminded him why that was .....The trust, the way he looked out for the safety and welfare of his friends even if the knight liked to pretend he did not care about anything at all. He was wounded and had just survived a killing blow and yet, he was ready again to cover Arthur's back.

"So you thought about it?"

"Of course I have thought about it!" Arthur said, half laughing now. The relief of having his friend reprimanding him again was like a weight falling from his heart. He had spoken true, when he had told Morgianna that he looked to Lancelot like a brother. He loved all his knights greatly. As a commander he felt it was his duty to keep them from harm, as ridiculous as that might seem, but Lancelot had always held a special place in his heart. He had always counted on him to speak his mind and keep him honest, without him he would feel lost, Arthur knew that.

"When I first met her, I thought she was a lure, but ....." Arthur looked at his friend as though searching Lancelot's face would help him find the right words to express what he felt.

"....she knows things only Morgianna would know. When I look at her, I feel this tie....between us and I can almost see the girl I used to know in the woman that has returned to me, almost ....." Arthur hesitated, thinking about the choice Morgianna had forced him to make.

"I did not want to trust her, but she has not deceived me thus far, Lancelot. She has been nothing but honest and kind and generous ....and she saved your life."

Lancelot held Arthur's gaze for a moment, the looked down at his hands. She was more than just Arthur's sister and from the way his friend looked at him, he could tell that Arthur was well aware of that. There was no need to breach the subject now.

"You are glad to have her back." Lancelot stated soberly. There was no need to question that either. He could tell just by watching his friend's face; underneath the controlled, serious expression which usually set the lines of Arthur's face, lingered a fine thread of delight and pride.

He looked as though he might think about it; listen to some inner voice before answering the question. Finally he nodded sombrely, but with a quick, mystified smile.

"Yes."

"I did not mean to...."

"I know you didn't." Arthur interrupted him. "I do not fault you for your suspicions, we all shared them ....but ....having her here, with me....it...," He stopped, searching for the right words again. "Her presence soothes me. And when she smiles ......I feel like a little boy again."

"I have yet to see that smile....She seems rather plain und serious to me, my friend."

Arthur laughed. "Morgianna appears to be calm and rather grave, but there is a magic in that smile....." he alleged only half joking. He looked at Lancelot for a silent moment.

"Even from your sickbed you are watching out for me."

Lancelot chuckled, shaking his head tiredly.

"Somebody needs to .....Who knows what you might do otherwise!"

They both laughed, but Arthur could see the pain the other man was trying to ignore, the physical strain this conversation was putting on his knight.

"You need to rest, my friend." He said quietly, putting one hand on Lancelot's shoulder.

"Rest now, we will talk in the morrow."

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It was the sound of water being pored into a cauldron that awoke him. Wincing slightly, Lancelot turned on his side to watch the room behind lowered eyelids. His eyes had grown accustomed to the dim lighting so that the flickering light of the fire did not confuse his vision. He could make out to frames moving in front of the fire, two women working side by side in silence. One was Arthur's mysterious sister, adding herbs and what seemed to be vegetables into the water before returning the cauldron back to its place above the fire.

Her hair was darker than night itself, almost being swallowed by the stirring shadows in the room. As though she had felt his gaze upon her, Morgianna´s eyes fixed on him for a heartbeat. Then she looked away, to Guinevere who was still holding the empty water bucket in one hand, while brushing honey coloured strands of hair from her face with the other.

"He has decided, I thought it would please you Morgianna ....." she said softly, so as not to disturb him.

Arthur's sister straightened; rising to her full height she was taller than Guinevere.

"Does it please you?" she asked, watching the younger woman carefully.

Guinevere narrowed her eyes, hugging the bucket to her chest, keeping it between her and Morgianna as though it could serve as a line of defence.

"Why ever would it not? It was what we all hoped for, wished for ....and now the day has come!" she answered almost defensively.

Seeing them standing opposite to one another, Lancelot could not help but notice the remarkable contrast between them the two women.

Guinevere was the smaller one of them, though pale when they had rescued her from the dungeon, her skin had taken on a faint, golden tan from the time she spent in the sun. It suited her and brought out the colour in her eyes and hair. She was the younger ..... springtime, golden and light like rays of the sun, honey and milk...everything Arthur's sister was not.

Morgianna was just the opposite, pale and silent as the moon. With the dark hair, her unreadable expression and eyes so brown that they seemed black at times, she seemed almost wraith like. She was shadow, moon and stars.....the soul of witchery.

"And it will make you queen." Morgianna stated. "Or has he not asked you yet?"

Guinevere swallowed hard, her facial expression torn between confusion and irritation.

"I think you know the answer to that question."

"Then go to him, it is where you should be ....at his side."

"If I did not know you better, I would think that it bothers you.....should you not be in high spirits? Should you not be proud that your brother will be king? "

Right then it was as though something went through Arthur's sister. She did not move, but seemed frozen for a moment, her face filling with some inconceivable emotion and a tension building in her slender body. She measured Guinevere with a regal look.

"Do not presume to know me." She said icily.

Guinevere gasped, stepping backwards before she could stop herself. Realizing what she had done, she threw the taller woman a defiantly look.

"Nobody knows you, Morgianna." She whispered, leaving the room hastily.

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"It seems I owe you my life...." Lancelot said after a while, sitting up in bed as though he had just awakened and not witnessed their confrontation. The look she gave him told Lancelot, that she was not fooled by his attempt. She had indeed known he was watching them, but had made no effort to move the conversation outside or hush Guinevere.

"You owe me nothing.....I will not say this again."

She filled a cup with water, holding it out to him. Looking at her with curiosity he took the cup from her hands, but cringed as the sudden movement sent a sharp pain through him.

Morgianna sat down on the bed, helping him lean against the wall to support his back when sitting. Her fingers were warm and sure, probing the wound carefully.

"Try not to move around quite so much for another two days. The bolt went through your side; I could not break it due to the barbs the Saxons use. I had to push it out on the other side."

Lancelot made a face.

"It is not my way to lie around like a useless ...."

"You will heal but it takes time and patience." Morgianna interrupted him evenly.

"Something I see you have not much experience with." She looked into his handsome face, noticing the stubble growing on his cheeks. It was still a handsome face. Almost against her will she laid one hand to his cheek, looking at him seriously.

"The sooner you listen and endure the boredom of spending two days abed, the sooner you will be back on your feet and at my brother's side. He will have need of you."

She gracefully rose to her feet, before Lancelot could find an answer or ponder her behaviour. Morgianna walked over to the cauldron, stirring the broth.

In his bed Lancelot emptied the cup, watching her. He could not help but think about the exchange of words he had witnessed. His eyes went to the door .....through which Guinevere had disappeared.

"Down this path lies only heartache and grief for you and many others. That is the only warning I can give you. I do not give it lightly, so you would be wise to heed my words."

His head turned to her. Lancelot stared at her with a stony expression.

"I do not know what you speak of."

Morgianna turned away from the fire, gazing at him silently for a moment. She could feel her chest growing tighter with every breath.

"You would have died for her." She whispered and for once her voice held all the emotion she held so firmly under control. It filled her voice and her eyes, just like she had filled his cup. She felt the anger rise, making her throat tight; angry with him, angry with herself for caring what he gave his life for ....angry at herself for knowing.....

"You would have given your life, every breath ...to save her. Do not deny it to me, there is no need for lies between us here and now, Lancelot. I am not a coy maid. I know men, the way they look upon what they covet. You would have died ....and for what?"

His face set in an amused, non- committal expression, Lancelot answered her level gaze with his.

"He might be your brother, but Arthur is also my friend. Do you think you are the only one who would do certain things, make sacrifices on his account?" he asked. On the outside he seemed so very calm and collected; Morgianna could almost see the wall he used to hide behind.

"You would have died that day, and for what? To save the woman that has stolen your best friend's heart?" Morgianna said simply, watching his face. She could feel a wave of quiet and tranquillity wash over her as she regained control over her emotions. Smoothing them out like a gentle hand in her mind until they became as clear and calm as a frozen lake in winter.

"I think you deceive yourself, Sir knight."

There was a slight tightening in his jaw line that spoke of his anger and frustration. His eyes were ablaze with something close to revulsion, but Morgianna could tell that it was not really directed at her. It was meant for himself, he was just as angry and aggravated with himself as she was......The realization of what he felt and what that could mean had wounded him more than the Saxons ever could. Just by feeling what was in his heart, he already felt as though he was betraying Arthur. He never wanted to feel like that.

"You think to know me? You think you can see through, just like that?" he inquired after a while, his voice cool and suppressed. "Why would you think that by knowing one man's heart you know us all?"

"I do not know the heart of every man, but I know love."

Lancelot chortled; it was a sound so bitter that Morgianna could almost taste it on her tongue.

"So you speak from experience, my lady?"

Morgianna shook her head, giving him a sad smile that astounded him. For a moment, even in that sadness the smile held, Lancelot could catch a glimpse of what Arthur had been talking about.

"I do not love like that."

"Would you not die for your brother?"

Morgianna looked at him for the longest time, until the silence grew heavy around them. When she answered her voice was full of anguish, not even a whisper, merely a breath full of regret and sorrow.

"I would kill for him."

Lancelot held her dark, knowing gaze and nodded slowly. Just like that ....something had shifted between them, and the knight found himself on common ground with the witch.

"In times like these, maybe that is worth even more ...."


	9. Lady of the Lake

Disclaimer: They're not mine, never have been ...never will be!

Notes: Thanks for the reviews; they make me feel very honoured!

Hope you still care what happens next!!

**_LADY OF THE LAKE_**

He had been standing on the wall for what seemed like hours, and still a part of him was not ready to accept what he was seeing. It was something Arthur had not seen before in his life. They had been arriving for days since the day of his victory over the Saxon horde.

They had been coming in small groups at first, no more than four or five.....now, from where he could overlook the surrounding landscape, their numbers were growing rapidly. Tiny black specks covering the green fields as far as the eye could see, like an army of ants moving slowly towards the wall.....Britons...woads; men, women and children making their way to the fort. The village of tents surrounding citadel was growing by the hour, stretching on and on....up to the woods. Gawain had even told him that he had seen people starting to build wooden shacks.

Arthur looked down on it all with mixed feelings of wonder and trepidation, watching the bustling activity and the woad soldiers walking through the lines, greeting him with respectful nods. A part of him could still not believe what he was seeing; the other knew that this was where it started, that he had passed the point of no return. Merlin's words, the decision he had witnessed Arthur make ........the news had travelled fast and swifter than Arthur could ever have thought possible.

He turned at the sound of steps and the almost inaudible squeaking of leather armour to find Lancelot walking towards him. After only three days of recovery, since he had regained consciousness, his friend moved with the natural grace of a born swordsman again. Only Arthur's schooled eye could detect how the knight sometimes slowed his movements to not upset the still healing wound.

Nobody should have recovered from a lethal blow this fast.......

Seeing his friend come towards him now, with his trademark smile on his lips, that held the potential to mean nothing and everything at the same time, Arthur could not quiet the little voice inside of him, which reminded him ever so often that his sister had to be a witch indeed.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost Arthur." Lancelot said as he reached him, only half- joking.

Arthur's face broke into a smile and he laid his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"You are lucky, Lancelot. I thought it too early to scatter your ashes into the winds just yet.....even if you are a plague at times!"

Lancelot laughed, shaking his head.

"What do you say to that ....." he motioned at the sea of tents and people they were looking out on. Arthur's eyes swept over the scenery one more time, taking in the movement on the hills.

He took a deep breath, crossing his arms over his chest, his face growing solemn and thoughtful.

"You were right, my friend. When we started our last mission you were angry with me and you told me that I had been fighting for a world that does not exist all those years."

Lancelot watched him carefully, nodding at himself. After knowing Arthur for so long, it was not hard for him to guess what was on his mind.

"So you will stay here and build that world?"

Arthur looked at him, thinking of how to put what he felt into the right words to not just make his best friend understand, but to persuade him too.

"If we don't try to make it so, if we don't try to shape this world for the better, who will?"

Lancelot laughed again, returning Arthur's serious look in earnest.

"You were always an idealist, Arthur."

Arthur's expression did not change, but his voice took on more urgent, crucial tone.

"That's why I need someone like you, Lancelot, to make sure I do not overreach myself.

You and my knights are one of the reasons I have to do this....."

He took a deep breath, putting his hands on Lancelot's shoulders, squeezing slightly as though to emphasize the importance of his words.

"I have failed you." He said, his voice still severe, but there was a strangled note mixing with the seriousness in his tone. "I have failed you and them so long, holding you to a promise that was given to Rome in duress, a service that Rome forced upon your forefathers. I need to make a world where no one will be forced into labour like that, a world where no man, woman or child has to be another one's slave."

"A world of equals, Arthur?" Lancelot asked, his face and voice filling with the affection he felt for his friend. Though the knight had to admit it was what Arthur had preached and believed in for as long as he had known them. It had been an ideal he had always held true. It did not really surprise Lancelot that Arthur would seize the chance to make this ideal reality, to make that dream come true. He only wished he had Arthur's strong beliefs, his conviction to not doubt that a world like that could ever exist. But for Lancelot that belief in justice and righteousness had died a slow death on his trip to England when he had still been a boy.

"Even you cannot achieve that."

"Maybe not...." Arthur divulged honestly, " ...but at least I can ensure that none of these people will be forced into service the way Rome has enforced it upon you. And maybe that will be enough. Is that not a goal worth fighting for?"

Lancelot returned Arthur's serious, inquiring look for a long time. Then his face split into a sincere smile and he nodded again, putting his hands on Arthur's arms.

"It might just be...."

Suddenly shouts could be heard from beyond the wall, loud and booming like battle cries.

Arthur and Lancelot looked around them, scanning the wall and landscape while instinctively drawing their swords in unison.

Gawain and Bors flew up the stairs to the top of the wall with weapons in hand.

"Are we being attacked?"

Lancelot chuckled as he detected the source of noise in the midst of the tents.

"I do not think so...." He told Bors, pointing at a group of six young woad warriors who stood looking up at the wall with their spears held high above their heads in some form of greeting.

"Are they saluting you?" Gawain asked in confusion, looking at Arthur.

Following the young men's eyes he slowly shook his head. Gawain exchanged a glance with Lancelot, gesturing towards the other end of the wall where another stairway led up next to the watchtower. Morgianna stood there, the hood of her cloak thrown back, looking out over the sea of tents much like her brother had done.

"I'll be damned....." Bors whispered to himself. He let his sword glide back into his scabbard with a disappointed grunt." I was looking for a good fight, you know ...."

Lancelot and Gawain laughed silently.

"How about a good cup of strong wine and a game of dice?" Lancelot asked, putting one arm over the shoulders of each of the two knights.

"So you think after cheating death you can cheat me out of my money?" Bors growled, clapping Lancelot firmly on the back.

"We shall see about that my friend!"

"Arthur?" Gawain asked.

"Go ahead....." He answered, still watching his sister. The wind had picked up and was playing with her hair and tugging at her woollen cloak. "I will join you in a moment."

He walked towards her slowly, taking her all in as he went. Her face was unreadable as ever, but there seemed to be an indescribable dignity about her. She stood very straight, eyes perusing the countryside and the hills on the horizon the way he had done.

The thought struck him that in another time, under different circumstances, she could have been a queen. She was not truly beautiful, but nobody could say she was unsightly either. She was fierce and proud like any warrior.There was something regal, something splendid about her that he could not deny and once more he felt that strange pull he had felt the night they had met in the mist and snow. Something in her was calling out to his blood.....and his blood answered.

He knew that she was not all she appeared to be, that she was holding something back.....he was not a fool. But he had not lied to Lancelot when he had told him, that her presence soothed him.

"I was asked not long ago what to make of this." He called out to her, gesturing to what lay beyond the wall with one hand.

"They are coming from all ends of this land, to pay their respects." She said, turning to him.

Looking at him, her lips curved up in the most subtle smile, her face blushed from the cool wind that was still playing with her dark hair. The smile and the blush made her look younger, almost girlish, but the look in her eyes was still grave. "They have come to swear allegiance and greet their king."

Arthur looked over the growing assembly for a moment, before his eyes fixed on Morgianna again.

"They have been coming since the day after the battle, how could they know I would not leave for Rome once the Saxons were defeated? How can hey know I will not send them home, now?" He shook his head. "How can they trust that I ...."

Arthur looked at her, exasperation evident in is face and voice."Why would they come from near and far? They do not know me, so why would they come?They only know me by name or reputation, from stories that might not even be true!"

"They come to see you, to see the man who will lead them. They trust you to guide them Arthur."

"Really?" Arthur took a deep breath, stepping closer to her until the fabric of her skirt brushed his legs and he could look directly into her dark eyes.

"Do not pretend with me, Morgianna. There is no reason for that between us. I am not an ignorant fool. I am aware that some of them come because Merlin called for them. That one reason I will be king is because Merlin willst it so....and because you say it so."

Morgianna stared back at him, her pale face empty and unreadable like the clear, blue sky.

When she opened her mouth to speak her brother held up a hand to silence her.

"You are more than just my sister to these people and we both know that I am not mistaken in this. The fact that I did not address it thus far does not mean that things have gone unnoticed by me."

Arthur reached out his hand slowly, letting his rough, battle- hardened fingers smooth the hair from her face. She had their mother's eyes, a deep, rich brown that seemed to burn with a light of its own, eyes that had seemed so gentle to him when he was a boy. There was still gentleness in their velvet depths now, but some of it had been replaced with something more solid, more clear-cut and hard. Her raven hair was just as soft as he remembered. For the first time there was something close to uncertainty in her gaze as she watched his face while he ran his hands through her hair.

"You are a force of your own." Arthur finally said quietly, not taking his eyes of her face.

"You hold power unlike any I have ever experienced or stood against.....unlike anything I could describe. You clothe yourself in it sometimes and it fills the air like silent thunder that makes your skin sing."

He put on arm on her shoulders and turned her back to looking out beyond Hadrian's Wall again. "When they look at you, they do not see my sister, and they do not see the woman....they do not see you like I see you." Arthur stated. "Tell me what they see, Morgianna."

She took a step to the side, holding his inquisitive gaze. Then she took another deep, calming breath, a look of defeat washing over her face for no longer than a heartbeat. She looked out over the green fields, the people arriving at the fort from far and wide. When she finally answered him, her voice sounded distant and formal, as though she was reciting a ritualistic speech she had given a hundred times before.

"They see the earth, the harvest, the sun and stars, air and darkness, land and sea. I am the mother, the daughter and the crone. I am the land's stalwart, their refuge, and their shelter in the storm. I am their guardian to stand against all harm. I am this land, the all- mother.....the lady of the lake."

Every so slowly Morgianna turned back to him.

"And you Arthur are to be king. Not because I deem it so or because any other man made it so.....but because you say it so."

She bridged the distance between them in one fluent, graceful step. She laid her hands around his face, leaning her forehead to his with closed eyes and he could feel her power breathing over him like a warm breeze, wrapping around him like a warm blanket or a tight embrace.

He gave a startled breath and pulled his head back to look at her. From up close her eyes were like wells of darkness.

"They come to you..." she whispered to him "They come because you will unite them and bring peace to this land."

Morgianna let her hands slide from his face, smoothing over his broad shoulders before she stepped backwards. Arthur stared at her in awe and bewilderment.

"I cannot change what I have become, but I did not deceive you when I said that I will be there if you shall have need for me. I will hold true to my word. I will rescind my duties and not return to them. I will stay here with you, if that is your wish." She told him warmly.

"But you should speak with you knights now, if you want them to stay. I think you will need them more than you will ever need me, their advice, and their strength. I see their hearts, their love for you. They too will follow you. If you will lead them, they will follow you wherever you may go. You have forged a union with them, made them a family. Now make a home for them, Arthur."


	10. Brothers in Arms

DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE .....

NOTES: Thanks again ...and I'll NEVER get tired of saying it...thanks you very much for the kind reviews!

**_BROTHERS IN ARMS_**

It had been weighing on his mind all day long, so heavy that Lancelot could do nothing to shake it off. It had been a good night, a night spend with friends just like they had done in the years before; sitting around the table, talking and drinking.....it had been like old times. And yet .....ever so often he would see a look of worry and guilt flash over Arthur's face when he had looked at them in turn: Bors laughing at the story Galahad was telling them, Gawain leaned back in his chair with his hands crossed behind his head, Tristan's bemused, secretive smile as he watched them all......

But when their eyes had met, Arthur had forced a smile back on his lips, toasting him across the table like nothing had happened at all. Lancelot could almost feel the question burning in his friend's mind, the request he did not want to make because he felt responsible for their future .....A future they had been talking and dreaming about for years. A future far away from Britain.

Wherever Lancelot had turned this day, the question had haunted him ....what to do? Confronting Arthur would not help him in this matter, that much he knew. It would only further the conflict he was already feeling and increase the weight on Arthur's shoulders.

He had the fleeting consideration of discussing his thoughts with Guinevere, but quickly thought the better of it.

The thought came to him on the wings of Tristan's hawk, flying over his head with a wild, joyous screech ....for better or worse, there was only one other person he might talk to, one who had Arthur's ear and might be privy to his thoughts.

He opened the door and as the light of day poured into the otherwise dark room, it found Morgianna lying on the bed that had been his resting place only days before, when he had still been sleeping close to death. Arthur's sister lay motionless and Lancelot realized that she must have fallen asleep after being up and about for days. She lay on her side, one leg tucked under the other, one arm cradling her head.

In sleep Morgianna´s stern, serious features were peaceful and relaxed in a manner that made her seems much younger and exposed. Her long, straight hair spilled around her like a sea of blackness, fanning out over the linen of the bed, covering the pillow in a dark gleam. Lancelot took in her resting form for a moment; the outline of her body underneath the dark blue gown she was wearing.....long , shapely legs, the soft swell of her hips, the curve of her waist, her pale skin ...the slow rhythm of her breathing. For an instant it astounded him to see that behind the harness of her station, her self-control and distance, there was a woman behind the witch.

Slowly he moved to retreat and close the door behind him when he found himself staring straight into her eyes. She had made no sound, had not moved an inch from her position on the bed......she had merely opened her eyes upon awakening.

Morgianna looked at him in silence for a moment as her heart beat against her ribs like a trapped thing and her breath caught in her throat. There was a hint of confusion laced with dread in her expression. To her relief, Lancelot mistook the look on her face.

"Forgive me, lady. I did not mean to startle you." He said hastily, ready to close the door.

"What is it?" she asked calmly, sitting up with regained composure. "I did not mean to fall asleep."

" Had I known that you were resting I would not have intruded......"

Her eyes narrowed .....Arthur had not sent him to find her. He had come out of his own accord, she realised.

" Lancelot ...." She interrupted him softly. "Why did you come?"

He took an impatient breath, angry with himself because she had seen through him so easily.

He looked out into the sunlit day, then back to her as though he was still undecided how to proceed, but finally stepped inside. Leaving the door open so the sunlight could still light up the room, he approached her slowly.

"There is something ......I need to know, a question I gather only you can answer."

"Concerning?"

"Arthur...."

Morgianna nodded, motioning him to continue, her attentive eyes on his face.

"I do not know what the two of you discussed yesterday, but whatever it might be it has weighed heavily on him ...."

"That is not true." Morgianna stated simply, her voice warm and with a hint of understanding amusement.

"You know what is weighing on his mind. You know him so well that you can read it in his eyes and that is why you came."

The knight shot her an aggravated look. He could not help himself, but her calm, controlled demeanour irritated him. Morgianna just sat there, looking at him as though daring him to deny her statement.

"He wants us to stay." He finally said tonelessly. "He wishes for us to stay, but he will not ask because he feels obliged to give us the freedom we wanted so desperately and for so long."

"He loves you all, " Morgianna agreed quietly. "So very much that he would rather loose you all than thinking that you would stay out of a sense of duty or obligation to him. He does not want his actions tying any of you down in this land ....or holding you back."

"You see much....." Lancelot remarked dryly, eyes fixed on her face.

"He is my brother....."

"Whom you have not seen for years and still you know his mind, still he confides in you and seeks your council."

"He is my brother." Morgianna repeated.

"So we are both just looking out for his best interest, covering his back?" he shot back.

"Is that what you do?"

Lancelot's eyes narrowed slightly. For the first time in their conversation her voice was not calm and even, it was still pleasant, still pleasing to the ear, but something else had crept in, something harder and more challenging. The knight gave her a satisfied smirk, having coaxed an involuntary reaction from Arthur's stoic, held back sister.

"I came here for an answer...." He admitted after a moment of silence.

Morgianna nodded, looking away from him at her hands that were folded in her lap. She still felt tired and it upset her that he would come to her for advice.

It was not so much the answer he sought from her, but what she knew to be true ....in truth he had already decided, whether he was aware of it or not. He had decided before he came, he just needed for someone, for her to tell him ....

A part of her wished that he would go and never return, that she would never see his face again, but she knew it would not be.

"You are a seer." He did not ask her, he merely said it and the words hung in the air like the heavy atmosphere just before it would rain.

Morgianna lifted her head to look up at him again, his face suddenly just as unreadable as hers.

"Yes ...but I do not have all the answers. There are many things I do not see, many things I do not know...."

"When I first saw you......there was a look in your face....." Lancelot hesitated, his brow knitting together in his effort to clothe his observation into words.

"Sometimes I can still see it, you look at me and there is something in your eyes, fleeting but there none the less, like you had seen me before....."

"I have...." Morgianna answered him, her voice bland, without any emotion. It took all her effort not to rise to the bait."I had seen your face many times, just as I had seen my brother's face."

Morgianna rose to her feet and moved over to him. She lowered her head for a moment as though to gather her thoughts, the she reached out and touched his arm.

"To know what you will, ask yourself this.....Where is your heart, Lancelot?

Because I look at you now and I can see that it is not in some distant land a million leagues away from here. Your soul does not live in a place that you barely remember. It longs for the memory of people and places long gone, but the idea of them is all that remains.Where does your heart beat? That is the place you will call home." Morgianna whispered to him, squeezing his arm once before she walked past him.

"What will happen if we go?" Lancelot called after her just as she reached the door. For the space of a breath Morgianna froze, closing her eyes. Then she looked back over her shoulder into his handsome face that held a serious, aloof expression. His dark, penetrating gaze seemed to challenge her.

"You will not go." She responded softly.

"Why?"

"Because she is not the only one you would have died for that day."

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Arthur took a deep breath, before entering the room. He could hear the voices of his men from where he was standing in the corridor. He had been standing there for a while, just listening to the sound of their laughter, their voices, the ebb and flow of their conversation. He was still warring with himself, unsure of what to do .....How to express what he felt.

They were his men, they had served him well for years ....he had fought with them, and they had spilled their blood and put their life on the line for him a hundred times over. They deserved their peace, they deserved their freedom......he knew that.

Asking them to stay .....Even if it were for the sake of friendship, in Arthur's eyes it was as though he was betraying them. They had longed to go home for so long ....

His sister had understood and it would never cease to amaze Arthur how clear she saw everything that surrounded her.

These men had become his family, more than just brothers in arms.....how could he ask them to forsake their home to make a new start in this country none of them were overly fond of?

Still .....He could not help but wish they would not leave.

The world they could build and shape together.....Arthur just knew in his heart that he would need them for this task. A part of him would die without their jesting, their banter and friendship.

Arthur closed his eyes, he had prayed to god for guidance.

Now it seemed to him it was a decision he could not make .....He would have to be honest, as they all well deserved and trust that in his wisdom, the lord would let them make the choice that was right for them .....Whatever that might be.

" Arthur!" Bors yelled, raising his beaker to greet him. "We were starting to fear you might have gotten lost on the way!"

"He has that gloomy look on his face again!" Galahad said with a taunting smile.

"Have you looked around and finally realised that you will be king of a stormy, dreary, and very cold Island?"

The others laughed, but Arthur shook his head.

"I am not a king as of yet, Galahad."

"Two more days......what difference does it make?" Bors protested, refilling his beaker.

"Or is it the thought of the wildcat who has finally caught you in her net that is making you look so glum?"

"Once you are a married man, how much worse can being king of the Britons be?" Gawain cut in.

A brief, haunted look flashed over Lancelot's face before he joined his friends in laughter. Tristan's eyes narrowed slightly, like a cat that had not missed the movement of a careful mouse.

Arthur stayed serious through all the talking, but even he had to smirk once or twice.

"My friends ...." He said finally, after they had all settled down.

"....there is indeed something that I will have to discuss with you all. As you all know these past days all kinds of people did not grow tired of telling me that this land needs me.....that I would be the one to make it whole and give its people peace."

He looked around, from one knight to the other, then he lowered his head, leaning both fists on the table, a gesture that spoke of his inner conflict.

"The truth is ...." Arthur continued, his voice a little quieter, but still strong enough to carry through the whole room. "....without you I cannot do this. I need your strength of arm, your vigilance and most of all your friendship, because without them I am not whole. I know ...I have no right to ask you to stay and it costs me dearly, to even speak these words......Each of you is a free man, you did not have to earn the right to choose were to go and were to live by Roman service, and it was yours and every man's since birth. But ...you do not have to go anywhere to have that freedom. You can be free here, you can have that freedom and rejoice in it ....here. I know I ask a lot of you ...."

"Arthur..." Lancelot interrupted him quietly.

He looked up to find his men lounging in their seats, chuckling and smiling at him in still amusement.

"Oh Arthur ...." Galahad repeated, shaking his head in silent laughter.

"Enough of your heartfelt sentiment, my friend or I might have to cry!"

Lancelot looked at him with his trademark smirk.

"There is no need in your attempt to persuade us, Arthur." He explained. "It is already done."

Arthur looked from Galahad to his best friend in utter confusion.

"Look at him!" Bors bellowed "Not even king and way in over his head already! We can't leave him here...."

Tristan nodded. "Somebody has to watch your back my friend."

"You will stay?" Arthur asked, unable to keep the astonishment out of his voice. At the same time he could already feel his conscience overwhelming him....he could not, should not ask this of them.

Lancelot read the expression on his best friend's face correctly.

"Arthur...." He said in earnest." There is no need for guilt. We all agree on this ...Gawain has said it before, we have been in this life longer than the other. The home we speak of, the place we've dreamt about ....we do not even know it anymore. This is what we know, this is who we are."

"And if I do not marry Venora soon, the wench might smother me in my sleep and make off with Lancelot there, before I even know I'm dead!" Bors interjected in his rumbling voice.

"She and the little bastards are all the family I have left. Why shall I drag them all the way through the empire to Sarmatia when there is nothing waiting for me! This is their home, this is where my children were born.....and Gawain...." He pointed towards the younger knight, grinning mischievously. "Gawain can just as well find himself a wife here....at least then we can ensure that she has a pretty face!"

"We trusted you in all those years, Arthur. You never once lead us astray, why would this be any different?" Galahad said simply.

Arthur nodded solemnly, trying to hold back the tears he could feel in his eyes.

"I thank you....all of you....."

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It had not been hard for him to find her. Even though the grass was high and went almost up to his knees, Tristan moved soundlessly through the weeds. Morgianna stood silently under the tall oak tree, motionless, unmoving like a statue as she looked up at the stars. Her coat had slipped from her shoulders to pool at her feet, but even though the night was cold it did not seem to bother her. She did not turn or acknowledge his presence in any way, but the scout could tell that she was aware of him none the less.

"You had me wondering for a while." Tristan said almost too quietly to be heard. His voice was low and soft, almost a caressing sound. "You hide yourself better than anyone I have ever met. I have been wondering for some time what would have you so scared ......now that I think I know...."

Morgianna turned her head to look at him, her dark gaze meeting his. There was the same feral light in his eyes that she had seen the night he had reawakened, after Merlin had brought him back. She knew it had been there before, it was all his ....the same watchful, intent predator's gaze.

The weight of his gaze made Morgianna reach out her hand. He took it without hesitation, leading her hand to his lips to kiss her fingertips. It was a simple gesture speaking of some form of unspoken bond between them that had been formed by their mutual acceptance and recognition of who and what they were. He saw her just as clearly as she saw everyone else and he did not judge. There was no reproach in his eyes, just understanding and empathy.

To some extent it was a relief for her, to know that there was one with whom she did not need to pretend and hide. There would be no deception between them, no show of false strength and for a moment the thought warmed her heart.

Morgianna gave him a cheerless, devastatingly sad smile and her cool hand smoothed the dark strands of hair from his eyes.

"Now that you know, you wish to be able to change my path just as I wish I could change yours?" she whispered.


	11. Oathkeeper

DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE ........I merely own my imagination.

NOTES: THANK YOU SOO MUCH! All those reviews bring me to my desk even faster to write another chapter! This one is a little shorter, but the next will be longer ...with the wedding and all!

So glad you all like!! THANK YOU!

**_OATHKEEPER_**

It was almost dawn when Morgianna walked back. In front of the fort's entrance she could see Merlin waiting for her in the twilight.

"I have been waiting for you....." he said solemnly. "Walk with me."

Morgianna nodded, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. She had not felt the cold before, now it seemed to seep in through her skin, chilling bone and marrow.

For a time they walked next to each other in silent, matching steps until Merlin broke the silence first.

"Arthur told me that you offered to stay with him and not return to your duties."

There was only the barest hint of reproach in his voice, certainly less than she had expected. Still ...knowing Merlin as well as she did, Morgianna did not trust the first impression.

"I did..." she answered simply, looking straight ahead." I promised to rescind my.... position if that was his wish."

Merlin nodded to himself."Good, he will need your council and clarity if he is to bring order and peace to this land. He has lived here long but there is much he does not know or understand about his people."

"He has Guinevere and his knights....."

Merlin shot her a meaningful look, which was supposed to remind her not to pretend with him.

"He will need you." He said with emphasis, stopping were he stood so that Morgianna was suddenly two strides ahead. She turned to him with a challenging look and was surprised to find that his expression had softened.

"Will you really step down and give up your position if he asks this of you?"

"Yes...." She answered without hesitation. She had been proud to be named her aunt's successor. She had loved Viviane dearly and she had been trained for her office for long, hard years. The sight had come to her unbidden, unexpected and undeniable, a gift as much as it was a curse. She had revelled in the power, the attention it brought upon her when she was still a young girl. When she had still been too young, to inexperienced to understand the value of her aunt's lessons.........This kind of power does not come free. The more she had seen the more she had understood: Everything had its time and its price. Wearing the cloak of the lady was a position of power, but also of duty and devotion ......lately that duty had become a burden and her loyalties had become divided.

"He has much affection for you.....and you for him." He remarked, eyes fixed on her face. The woman in front of him straightened her shoulders, meeting his gaze with her head held high, resolve and authority in her clear, cold eyes. She knew that searching gaze that was directed at her now.

He was searching for weakness, for a sign of emotion in her face .....Something he could exploit, something that would serve to remind her of whom she owed allegiance to. Merlin was a man of power and influence, but a man, a mortal none the less ....he was not unfeeling or unreasonably cruel, but he pursued his goals with fervour and uncompromising dedication. In his eyes everything had its use. He had seen the grief, the regret, the fear in her eyes. Returning his inquisitive stare, Morgianna steeled herself. She knew in his eyes, her love for her brother might seem useless to the cause.

"I gave Arthur my word, I will not be forsworn." Morgianna said, her voice cool and controlled, suddenly more than just a voice.......holding the whisper of the wind, the rushing of leaves, the sounds of the night. She had known him since her childhood, but just now she felt it necessary to remind him that he was not just talking to the girl he had known, but that he was also addressing the lady of the lake, not just the woman but the office.

Merlin nodded to himself again, obviously satisfied with her answer. His serious expression melted away in front of her eyes, giving way to a warm, affectionate smile as he held his right hand out to her in a fatherly gesture.

"The elders agree that your place must be at your brother's side. We have sent for Nimue to receive your blessing. If they make haste she can be here as soon as tomorrow."

Morgianna stared sat him in wonder and for a moment she thought the impact of his words were enough to bring her to her knees.

On the outside she looked as calm and serene as ever, but inside her mind and soul a storm was raging. The implication of what Merlin had said was not lost on her. Nimue could assume her duties, her position ......they would let her step down, they would release her from the oath she had sworn.....or was he merely testing her?

"Nimue...." She whispered slowly, turning the name over in her mind until the sounds fell from her lips lightly as pebbles.

"You taught her yourself. She is still young, but .....she has the sight and followed your lessons and teachings faithfully."

"Yes..." Morgianna asserted almost inaudibly, searching Merlin's face. For once there was no careful, calculating look, and when he smiled at her the sentiment reached his eyes.

"She will be the lady...."

"You will still have to hold your position until after your brother's wedding, Nimue will not arrive tonight. She will assume your duties as soon as she has received your blessing."

"And she will take my place...."

"In all things..." Merlin nodded, still patiently holding out his hand. They both looked at each other, knowing all the meaning, the cruciality those few words held.

She could be free.....of obligation, of oaths sworn so long ago, before she had understood the impact of words whispered over fire and blood.

Morgianna´s breath caught in her throat and her facial expression became almost raw with emotion. She would be free...

"Thank you." She whispered, taking the offered hand, leading it to her forehead before kissing it. "Thank you ...."

She let him draw her in with one hand. Stepping into his open arms she could feel his lips on the top of her head, the rough texture of his cloak under her cheek and the smell of moss and hawthorn that always clung to him. It had been years since she had been held in a comforting embrace and for a moment Morgianna thought she might cry. All the things she had seen, all the things her dreams had shown her, the things she had done ...sometimes they had turned her heart to ice with dread. She had been schooled to appear removed and detached from all others that at times she felt as though it had turned her to stone. Now .....Having this weight lifted from her heart and shoulders was like being saved from drowning, like reaching the surface for the first clean, deep, liberating breath.

"Enough....it is enough." Merlin whispered into her hair, softly enough for her to know that he understood. "Enough pain, child."


	12. Summons

DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE ....SADLY

NOTES: Thanks again for the flattering reviews!!! They mean so much to me!

I Know, I know...I said the wedding was up ....next chapter! I PROMISE!!!!

**_SUMMONS_**

In the early hours of the morning of his wedding day Arthur found his sister in the small, windowless room she still occupied. Morgianna was sitting in front of the fire, combing her long, moist hair. The air was still filled with the sweet aroma of whatever she had used to wash it, her head tilted to one side she let the raven strands fall over one shoulder.

She looked up when Arthur entered the room, greeting him with a small smile that made her eyes sparkle in good humour. Arthur could not help but notice the change in her demeanour.

"I see this day finds you in high spirits...." He laughed in astonishment."Good tidings?"

"The best ....." Morgianna smiled, but she could not help the sadness creeping into her thoughts again when she met his eyes. There were things she had seen that could not .....would not be changed, no matter what station she held. There were things that would not be influenced by her decision, her resigning.......things she wished to be able to spare him with all her heart......

Running her comb through her hair once more, she tried to chase those thoughts from her mind. Not now ....not today......

"This is not a day for worry, Arthur...." She said softly to him, but the words were just as much directed at herself. Grasping her hair with one hand she moved it out of the way, back over her shoulders, so she could look at him fully. She knew he had come with a reason so early on the day of his wedding

For a moment his face was serious as they looked at each other in silence, then his expression softened and whatever had weighed on him seemed to melt away.......but Morgianna knew better. Just like her, Arthur could never completely forget.....some of what concerned him always stayed in his eyes.

"I could not find Merlin this morn.....there were things I still need to discuss...."

"He has ridden ahead." Morgianna explained evenly. "There are preparations to be made.....they will take some time." She left it at that. The wedding party would follow Merlin around midday to the site that had been chosen for the ceremony. It was an hour by horseback, so that even the ones, who came to witness the event by foot, would be back at the fort in time for the feast in the evening.

She could tell that he saw the importance, the meaning of marrying in a place that was sacred to the Britons. The symbolism of the king marrying a woad in a place of power and consecration was not lost on him; doubtless Merlin had impressed it on her brother in great detail too. Still, Morgianna also knew her brother was not just a Christian, but a man of strong beliefs.....and at least some part of wedding Guinevere without the blessing of the church and in a pagan ceremony performed by a druid priest no less, bothered him. But Morgianna knew it had to be done this way, otherwise Arthur could never be king of all Britain. Once it was done, he would be king in truth .....married between the pillars of the earth; a union blessed by the Taliesin and the Lady of the lake. No other man would ever be able to boast such....

"You do not just pledge yourself to her, the king gives himself to the land this day..." Morgianna said softly, answering the question she knew he had been hesitant to ask.

Arthur stared at her perplexed for a moment, then shook his head in silent wonderment. They had been apart for years and yet ...somehow his sister seemed to know his mind.

"I have your blessing then?"

Morgianna arched an eyebrow when he went down on one knee before her.

His eyes changed with his moods.....in anger and grief they were the clear, startling blue of a winter sky, now .....when he smiled in the light of the fire his eyes seemed more green, a pale green specked with gold and hazel.

She rose to her feet in a fluent graceful motion, laying her hands on his curly, black hair for a moment, like a mother would do with a child.

"You will have my blessing in all you do." Morgianna whispered into his hair as she leaned down to kiss first his right temple, then the left.

Arthur closed his eyes and let the soothing warmth of her touch wash over him like a comforting, quieting wave. The scent of the bath she had taken still clung to her, enveloping him with the aroma of wild flowers and herbs he could not name .....and for a moment, when he had felt her hands on top of his head, it reminded him of home and the gentleness of his mother's embrace. There were other feelings still, other feelings Morgianna stirred in him ....a sense of connection he shared with few people, a fierce, tender warmth that spread through him when she looked at him at times. There were moments when his sister was a mystery to him, in her distance, the unknown power she wielded......and there were moments such as these, when he thought her as close to him as few others.

He took both of her hands in his, standing up and looked around the room.

"We should have found you different accommodations days ago...."

Morgianna smiled mildly. " It suits my needs....but there are a few comforts I would appreciate...."

Arthur's eyes stopped surveying the room and fixed on his sister again.

"So you will stay?"

The astonishment in his voice and eyes almost served to make her laugh and filled her heart with joy.

"If it please my lord...." Morgianna answered, slightly bowing her head I his direction.

" Don't ...." Arthur whispered in a very grave tone, shaking his head. It made Morgianna weary to see it and as fast as it had come, the elation she had felt due to the prospect of being released from her duties, was dampened.

"Don't call me that, Morgianna." Arthur repeated uncomfortably. "You ....and them...of all people." He made an incomplete gesture with his hand, pointing towards the door. Morgianna took it the way he must have intended it .....meaning his knights.

Morgianna squeezed his hands gently, willing him to understand that being king, he would have to come to terms with a few things .....

"No matter how much you will change this land, this world, Arthur.....you will be king. No matter what you do, part of that entails that you will always be the first...even among equals."

For a moment he returned her intent gaze, seeing the truth in her words. Then Arthur stepped back, slowly pulling his hands out of hers with a sigh. It was as though for a moment he had forgotten that she was not just his sister, but her words had reminded him that often this sister spoke truths that no other could know....

"There are many things I have to do before we leave ...." He said quietly " I ´am glad you will stay...."

Morgianna nodded to him, her face once again the definition of unreadable serenity. There were things to do indeed.....things for her to do. She watched his retreating back as he walked out the door until he was out of sight

"All hail king..." she whispered, looking at the place where he had just stood before her.

On the day of her wedding, Guinevere sat on the bed she had shared with Arthur every night, since the one before the battle against the Saxon horde. This day Arthur had left it and would not be allowed entrance again until after the feast. This day this room had been turned into her bridal chamber. It was the first moment of quiet and reflection Guinevere had had in quite some time. The women who had helped her bathe, washed and combed her hair, massaged different parts of her body with a variety of scented oils had finally left her to let get dressed in peace and only because she had insisted. Venora had also left with the cheese and bread she had brought for Guinevere to eat.

Now she sat on the bed looking at the dress that was laid out next to her, but her thoughts were with her intended. She loved him, there would be was question about that ......not a doubt in her mind. Theirs was a meeting of minds just as it was a meeting of fervour....there was no lack of tenderness or passion in their unions.

And yet ....there were some things that she could not deny feeling, could not deny knowing.....

When she remembered looking at Arthur over Lancelot's lifeless body, seeing him cradle his best friend's head in his arms, his face a mask of pain and sorrow .....

When she pictured the look on his face when she had brought him the news that his friend had survived and awakened, a part of her had known that no matter how much she loved, how much she gave of herself .....No matter what she did, she would never come between these two men. Arthur had known and loved Lancelot long before she had known him and no matter how Lancelot might reproach Arthur for his idealism and kindness.....just by looking at him she knew he only raged and taunted because in his heart he feared that these faults might be his friend's downfall. All these faults only made him love Arthur more for the upstanding, generous and idealistic man he was.

Their friendship was the one thing these two men held above all .....and it confused her how much she felt for both of them.

Arthur...the righteous, fierce, honourable leader and the challenging, unpredictable, irascible Lancelot ...who had taunted and goaded her on the ice and had still come to her aid across the raging battle .....both men fearless, courageous fighters......

The rapping on the door made her head turn and she sighed.

"Enter...."

" You should be dressed, the wedding party will be leaving soon." There was no reproach in Morgianna´s voice, no hint of reprove as she crossed the room. She was dressed in the light grey and dark cloak of the lady once more, the way she would witness the wedding of her brother.

Guinevere gave Arthur's sister an apprehensive look, far to aware of the fact that the older woman's level gaze would miss nothing, that her eyes saw things that other couldn't and that right this moment Morgianna´s dark eyes could just as well look into her heart and soul....She was after all the lady of the lake and to some her word was still law.

"I brought you these..." Morgianna said quietly, holding out her hands to show Guinevere the white blossoms. "They make for better decoration then some of the things I saw these women leave your chambers with." There was the hint of a mocking smile in her features as she said it.

Guinevere returned the smile with a chortle that spoke of the relief she felt. She had been weary of the words she had exchanged with Morgianna a while ago and reflecting on it she had understood that it was not wise to challenge neither the lady nor the future king's sister.

"Thank you....they are beautiful, will you ....?"

"Gladly..."

Morgianna wrought the blossoms into Guinevere's hair in a simple style that held the blond tresses from her delicate features before she fastened the veil. Looking down on the young woman before her, Morgianna smoothed one hand down the transparent cloth, it felt as soft as touching spider webs. She could still feel the tension in her, the thoughts that had occupied her mind.

"In a few hours time we shall be sisters, you and I....." she whispered.

Guinevere lifted her eyes to Morgianna, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

"Will you like to have a sister?" Guinevere asked her carefully, searching the other woman's face. But in contrast to herself, she found that Morgianna was still Merlin's master disciple....in truth sometimes Guinevere could not help but ask herself if the pupil had not long since surpassed the master. There was nothing in her face nor in her eyes as she returned her probing gaze. Her features frozen in a pleasant, but unreadable mask of calm.....

Morgianna felt her heart stop for an instant as the question echoed in her mind, bringing forth the memories of things she had seen, of incidents that she knew in her heart would come to pass.....and yet, she could not fault Guinevere anymore for them than she could lay the blame at her own door. Some things had been decided by others.....someone else had made the choice.......

"Yes..." she answered simply, caressing Guinevere's smooth cheek. " Very much so..."

Guinevere nodded, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. Then she leaned forward, her forehead resting against Morgianna´s hip.

"I feel I do not understand my own heart this day."

She had help coax Arthur in the right direction, she had helped bring him to the land, to accept his fate......she had fallen in love with the man he was along the way and in due course it would make her queen.

"I should rejoice.... I do, but sometimes ....at night I feel like I'm standing at the window and I can hear someone calling my name in the distance....."

Morgianna nodded, understanding what she meant to say.

"Arthur fights for something greater, a nobler cause, and a vision of justice and freedom that does not yet exist, while Lancelot fights for nothing at all, he believes in nothing ...." Guinevere said harshly. Rising to her feet she was still smaller than the willowy lady of the lake, but she lifted up her head stubbornly and met Morgianna´s eyes. "I do not understand, Morgianna!" she whispered,a hint of desperation lacing her words

Morgianna looked at her for a moment, then smiled bitterly, shaking her head ....how could she not see it ...

"The only thing Lancelot believes in and the one thing he fights for are the same.......Arthur."she explained quietly. "Whoever said you can only love one way and one person was a fool...."

She picked up the dress from its place on the bed and held it up to Guinevere.

"We need leave soon, Venora has left instructions for the cooks and prepared everything, but if we return too late the feast will be spoiled."

Guinevere nodded, realizing that there would be no solution, not even from a witch's lips, and let Morgianna help her fasten the dress on shoulders and arms. From inside her own dress Morgianna´s pale hands produced a golden necklace with a symmetric cross that held a red stone in its middle.

"This once belonged to my mother .....Arthur will want you to have it." She said upon fastening it around Guinevere's neck. The young woman turned in surprise.

"Thank you ...I ....."

" It should be yours, the gods know I'll never marry...."Morgianna said sweetly before she turned to leave the room.

" Morgianna...." Guinevere called after her, meeting her serious eyes as she paused, her hand already reaching for the door. Morgianna´s face once more set in unreadable lines that held nothing except for inscrutably quietness.

"I love your brother....."

She took the young woman in, still standing in the middle of the room, so heart wrenchingly beautiful in the wedding attire, before answering in her even, unwavering voice.

" I know...."


	13. Unravel

DISCLAIMER: like I own any of this!!!!

NOTES: Ok...this took very long ...this chapter was actually 7000 words long, so I had to cut it into three separate pieces.......SORRY! Hope anyone is still interested. Am studying for my last exam so if this is not so very good, bear with me. It will get better next chapter!

**_UNRAVEL_**

She stood by in silence, watching.....listening to the exchange of wedding vows and Merlin's words of blessing and union.

It was all she could do, it was all she wanted to do and yet, in her heart Morgianna knew that no matter how hard she wished it.......she could not forget.

There were things she knew, things she had foreseen......and she knew that the sight would not leave her just because she would be absconding her office.

The land had demanded a king, a leader who would unite them all and bring peace and justice. And she had helped bring him here, to this moment; to this task he took upon himself. She had answered the land's call, as was her duty.She had given this land everything; her adolescence and youth; a life of dedication towards a sole purpose and now her own flesh and blood ...her only brother. And for a moment, watching Guinevere and Arthur raising his sword over their heads, their hands entwined, Morgianna send a silent prayer to the earth and sky to repay that debt in kind ....to make sure that she had not sacrificed all that was left of her kin on the altar of her obligation.

But it was not all ruin and gloom she had seen in all these years, Morgianna reminded herself as her eyes followed the flaming arrows making their way across the sky. She had seen hope and peace too, she had seen how great a king her brother would become.....there was so much good going to come of this. And maybe, maybe ...if she could rescind her office, than other things she had foreseen could be changed in time .....There was hope still.

Still she laughed at the half- hushed, half- teasing conversation between Bors and his lover......just like the knights surrounding her. And just like them she hailed her brother....hailed the king, trying to feel only the joy and pride she should have felt and tried to ignore the persistent dread that made her heart ache.

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Venora, who had taken over command of the kitchen after the Romans had left, had planned the feast with more ease and perfection than anyone had thought possible. Her charges who had worked together with the woads, preparing the meat their hunters had brought, had outdone themselves. There were fires burning in the fort and in the village of tents and shacks that was forming around it.......everywhere was laughter and music and dancing.

Morgianna saw it all before she returned to her small, windowless room and closed the door firmly behind her. Her part in this was done ....she had witnessed the wedding, blessed the union in her capacity as the lady, but now ...listening to the music and the sounds of laughter, of the celebration under the open sky, something inside of her was eager to leave that part of her life behind.

She had been the lady of the lake for the longest part of her adult life; she had been annointed to the office being still a child.....a teenager whose life had ended that day.

From the moment she had stepped through the mist and become Viviane's student she had been another......the office had changed her. She had left the girl behind and had become someone else, not just a woman but a symbol, a sacrosanct priestess whose word was law to some....forever removed and detached.

Now, wearing the robe and the cloak that signified her status, Morgianna realised that the calling had become a burden.....remembering Viviane's sad, but determined face whose expression she finally understood. They had both taken pride in the gift and the status it demanded, but the moment Morgianna had set eyes on her brother after all those years, she had known the price she had paid was too high.

_It is enough .....Enough pain, child._

Slowly, with calm steady fingers she opened the claps that held the cloak in place, feeling the heavy cloth slide down her shoulders without a sound. Then her hands moved on to the fastenings of the grey dress.

Tonight she would move out of that shell and be somebody else.....Morgianna promised herself as she stepped out of her grey robe. Come what may tomorrow ....this night she would cease to be just a symbol for her people, tonight she would be just the woman, the sister ...celebrating her brother's marriage and kingship.

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"Morgianna...." Arthur turned towards her as soon as he saw her approaching across the firelight inner yard and his face held the expression of satisfied bewilderment. His sister wore a soft, rust- coloured dress with moss green stitching around the hem and arms. Fastened on her arms and close to her neck, it left her collarbone and shoulders bare. The two silver combs that held her hair back from her face were the only ornaments she used. And in his opinion the only ones she needed.

"You have Britons and Woads dancing together at your wedding feast, Arthur. Is that not a good beginning?" she greeted him softly.

"You look changed..." he whispered into her ear as he kissed her cheek tenderly. He watched Morgianna lift her eyes to his and give him that smile which lit up her whole face and transformed her so very much.

"You wanted the sister, not the lady to celebrate your union tonight. Soon that is all that I will be." She answered, her voice warm, but still a little sad.

Arthur touched her face almost reverently, feeling that familiar pull again that tugged at him every time she as near.

"That is all I'll ever wish you to be."

"I'll be damned...." Bors mumbled under his breath as they all watched Arthur hold out his hands to his sister. She looked nothing like the held back, serious woman that had stood among them at the wedding. She looked like a young girl, her eyes reflecting the firelight in a smile that was both open and dignified at the same time. A captivating, mesmerizing smile that promised everything .....without committing to anything.

Gawain coughed in surprise, only Tristan stood there in silence until Galahad nudged him with his elbow.

"She is ....."

".....don't know what she is, but it sure is something." Bors interrupted, shaking his head with a laugh. "Damn magicks....."

"You don't look surprised....Why do you never look surprised? " Gawain said in an irritated manner to Tristan who just shrugged his shoulders.

"About what?"

"That ...." Galahad said gesturing towards Morgianna who stood immersed in conversation with her brother. "I always took her to be very plain...and now ....it has to be magic....some sort of spell..."

Tristan shrugged again, his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer before he turned away.

"She looks no different to me....."

"It's not magic ..." Lancelot said from the shadows quietly. "It is what she really looks like"

"How do you know?"

Lancelot hesitated, gnawing on his lip with a thoughtful expression in his face.

"I've seen her while she was sleeping once; she looked like this ....she was ...." he explained with a grim unerdtone in his voice.

"Beautiful?"

"Yes..."

Guinevere, who had still been immersed in conversation with two chieftains observed the exchange between her husbands at his sister with astonishment. For a moment her eyes narrowed and the expression in her face froze in confusion, but then Morgianna´s dark eyes settled on her and she nodded towards the younger woman.

"My queen ....", She whispered.

Guinevere smiled at her, blushing slightly at the new title she had yet have to get used to.

Morgianna left them with another nod to her brother, a feeling of relief washing over her, fuelled by the joy and happiness she saw around her, and in her brother's face.

"Will you not sit and drink to your brother's wedding with us, lady?" Morgianna looked around, finding Arthur's knights seated around a table that was at the edge of the yard, a little secluded space slightly removed from the rest of the company. Her eyes wandered from one to the other......still sitting off to the side, still not realizing how important and central their role and place would be in the future of this country.

All eyes were fixed on her, like she was some exotic, mysterious animal they had yet to inspect before deciding if it could be eaten or left alone. She knew that they still mistrusted her...at least some part of them did. They longed to know more about her to determine who or what she really was and where she would fit in .....

In the shadows, leaning against a beam she could more sense than see Lancelot and the dark intensity of his gaze. For a moment all her hopes and joy faltered, but she took another breath, steadying herself.

Gawain had stood up, holding his hand out to her across the fire while the other's watched badly veiled interest.

Morgianna smiled mildly, bowing her head gracefully before stepping around the fire.

"It would be my pleasure."


	14. SIGHT

DISCLAIMER: Not Mine ...

NOTES: Sorry for the Wait ! More soon!

**SIGHT**

"Arthur tells us .... you were never married?" Galahad asked once Morgianna was seated on the bench close to the fire. Her dark eyes fixed on his face, glittering with surprise and mirth at the young knight´s directness.

"No .....I was never married." She answered.

"But you could have been? Despite your ...station?"

Morgianna inclined her head slightly.

"I am a priestess." She laughed, folding her hands in her lap.

"The office of the lady is sacrosanct, but the woman who holds it is no less woman. Why would anyone deny her what should be hers by right; a companion ....children even. My aunt had consorts while she held the office."

"And yet, you are not married." Gawain interceded.

"Would you marry where you do not love?" Morgianna returned gently, looking at him with serious eyes. But her expression softened immediately into a mild smile.

"I was very young when I took office and it was a trying time. I was trained to fully comprehend the duty of my station, the duty to my people and this land. Some things were just not written in the stars for me. I do not live by my heart´s wishes...I never could."

"Only resignation, doing without .....and acceptance? Always putting obligation and duty above everything else?" Galahad sounded almost indignant of that prospect.

"It was all I was brought up to expect...." Morgianna smiled serenelybut with a trace of regret, nodding her head.

"And I thought the Christian priests had it bad...." The young man laughed, shaking his head.

Gawain grinned at him, taking another sip from his wine.

"I did not renounce everything .....I was the lady of the lake, not a nun." she said with an amused smile that made Gawain laugh and Galahad look at her in surprised awe.

Tristan appeared from out of nowhere, holding out a goblet of mulled, honeyed wine for Morgianna. She took it, nodding her thanks to him before the scout vanished into the night again.

Gawain watched him go, then turned back to Morgianna to look at her with narrowed eyes.

"What is it with you and him? .....He´s our friend, but there are things we do not know about him. With you .....there seems to be some connection we do not understand."

Morgianna took a sip of the wine, contemplating the question while laying her hands around the goblet.

"There is a part of us...." She said, her voice becoming very even and melodious like a bard beginning a story. "A part of ourselves, in every one of us, that we keep trapped inside, like some wild beast trapped in our thoughts and dreams. We deny ourselves this part in daylight hours because its power and its wildness scare us." She raised her eyes to meet Gawain´s blue eyes. "Tristan does not fear it or hide it. He has accepted it and now ...he commands it."

"You see that when you look at him......"

"Yes.....and he knows it. He perceives my gift ......as kin to his."

"So ....the stories are true, you are a seer then?"

Morgianna laid her hands around the goblet, looking around into the eager, interested faces of Arthur´s oldest and most valued friends.

"The sight comes to me....yes. Sometimes unbidden, sometimes in dreams, sometimes at my call ....." she gave a little laugh at Galahad´s aghast expression. "But I hardly see everything, some things are meant to be while others are decided by the choices we make and the paths taken in our past."

She could see it in their eyes, read it in the posture of their bodies .....the slight blush the already consumed wine had brought to their faces; they were fascinated and yet torn between doubt and the wish to know. Just like her brother they were reluctant to ask ....

She had been brought up to believe that her gift, her talent was a tool.....a tool that should never be used idly or without good, serious judgement. It was hardly a trick to amuse the guests at her brother´s wedding feast, be they his friends or not .....but in the light of surrendering her office to another soon, Morgianna felt compelled to set aside her training and principles. They had not asked her to speak truth for them and so she would not, but give nothing more than a glimpse.

She put the goblet down at her feet, tilting her head to the side to look at Galahad, who sat closest to her, in good humour.

"You have a kind, courageous heart.....and your name will be known beyond the borders of this land, for you will never be afraid to stand up for those who cannot fight for themselves."

She whispered to him kindly before her eyes set on Gawain, for a moment sadness glimmered there but then Morgianna smiled.

"You will charm many a lady before you will find the one that can not just hold your heart, but keep it." Bors threw his head back and laughed, patting Gawain´s back with more strength than necessary.

"No beautiful Sarmatian woman for you, then!"

Morgianna arched her brow looking at Bors with a bemused smile.

"You will get married very soon and have more children....but I hardly need my gift to see that far."

Now it was Gawain´s turn to laugh at his friend and after a moment of perplexity, Bors chimed in. Galahad looked at Morgianna, not quite sure what to think, but even he could not quite suppress a smile.

"What about Tristan?" Lancelot asked quietly, a small challenge lacing his words. Morgianna looked up to where the dark scout had reappeared at the other side of the fire. They looked at each other across the flames, and even though Morgianna had had nothing to do with bringing him back to life, she could not help but feel a wave of guilt sweeping over her like ice water, drowning out the warmth and happiness she had felt only moments ago.

She could her face settling back into the calm, unreadable mask her features had become due to her aunt´s training and the burden of her office.

Tristan returned her gaze from behind the dark strands of hair the fell into his face with the same impenetrable calm, an unfathomable expression on his face.

"The greatest love ....", Morgianna whispered with a tremor in her voice, her throat tight.

_The greatest love .....the greatest loss ....._

She closed her eyes, barring the way for the tears that had started to fill her eyes. She rose from her seat swiftly, inclining her head towards the knights.

"Forgive me ...." She said, moving past them, past the fire to walk away as swiftly as she could without making it seem as though she was fleeing.

Tristan´s dark gaze met Lancelot´s guarded expression across the fire, as the other´s turned their heads towards their friend in confusion.

"What did you do?" Gawain asked him, unable to shake the distinct feeling that something momentous had just happened around him without him being able to discern its significance or its consequences.

Lancelot gave him a non- committal shrug, but his eyes followed Arthur´s sister until she was out of sight.

"Why don´t I find out?" he finally said, setting out to follow Morgianna into the night.

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"What will you have of me?" her voice had taken on a harder, almost bitter tone. As though each word left a foul taste in her mouth. She had walked away from the feast, as far away from the laughter and music as she could without loosing sight of the fires. Hidden in the shadows of the tallest oak tree, leaning against its rough rind, she was almost invisible. Only the slightest bit of moonlight fell through the leaves, revealing nothing but one side of her face. Her black hair, her dark cloak were swallowed whole by the velvet darkness.

"Do you not see everything?" Lancelot answered and his words still held the same challenge. It made Morgianna angry and tired. She had not wanted this, she had wanted to feel light-hearted and free of cares or duties .....for the first time in a long while.

She met his eyes with an impatient glare. Lancelot did not flinch or avert his eyes, but stepped closer almost against his will.

"Why is it, that when you look at us ...at me sometimes, there is so much anguish in your eyes?"

"What do you want me answer?"

"The truth...."

Morgianna gave a bitter, humourless laugh, fit to hurt his ears and shook her head.

"The truth is not always a helping hand in every matter, Lancelot."

"Of that I am aware...."

"Are you?" Morgianna looked at him again, observing his carefully vague expression.

"You do not know what you ask! And what truths would you have from my lips, Lancelot?" Morgianna demanded to know harshly, with more woe than a voice should be possible to hold.

" That the when I saw you close to death on that battlefield I thought my heart would stop and I would never be able to draw another breath? That even though we had never met, your face haunted my dreams every since the sight came to me? That I prayed to the gods our paths would never cross because the thought of it had me scared to death? That I will survive my brother, but your death will be the one thing that will destroy me as surely as a killing blow?"

Morgianna looked at her feet, breathing heavily as she tried to compose herself. It was too late and well she knew it ....there was no stopping now. Once she had begun words filled her mouth like a never ending stream, forcing their way out through her lips.

Truth would have its will donewhether she was willing or not. She could almost taste the bitterness of her tone like bile on her tongue.

"Are these really the things you need to know? That I can see the envy in your eyes?You envy him that he is in her heart and you envy her that she can be as close to him as you will never be and these feelings cut you deeper than any knife. I can see it in your eyes, how much you loathe yourself for feelings such as these....that in themselves you already see them as betrayal. Are these the truths you really need to hear?"


	15. Knowledge

DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE!

NOTES: Thanks fort he Reviews! This is really short, but the next one is already in the works and might even be ready tonight!

Hope you still like!

**KNOWLEDGE**

"Yes...." His voice as toneless when he said it, not flinching from her penetrating, angry gaze. One word that held a world of meaning. One simple word and yet it held a weight heavy enough to bury them both underneath.

They stared at each other for one endless moment and it seemed to Morgianna that all the emotions they suppressed, that slumbered underneath their cover of self- control and neglect, combined made the air heavy, almost too thick to breathe.

Her chest constricted under the pressure and for a heartbeat she thought she might suffocate.

But years of training and control took over instinctively and she let it go, let her feelings, her anxiousness go in one deep breath until there was nothing left inside.

Shouts and applause could be heard from the feast, Morgianna turned to see Merlin in the distance, standing at the head of a table, raising his cup in a toast. She could not hear the words, but the laughter and the clapping of hands washed over them both like a wave crashing to shore. Morgianna saw Arthur raising his goblet in return while Lancelot watched her calm face intently, following her eyes.

"It scares you sometimes, doesn't it?" He finally said solemnly. "Your brother's capacity for goodness. You hide it so well, even from him, but sometimes it fills your eyes; the fear that all that makes Arthur great could one day turn against him. His kindness, his overwhelming sense of justice, his capacity for mercy. We both know that a king cannot always afford to be merciful and forgiving, that sometimes he needs to be ruthless in his cause in order to make sure his ideals prevail....."

Morgianna turned to him ever so slowly, looking at him as though she would see him for the first time. When she answered him her voice was soft.

"You see it in my eyes, Sir Knight, because you feel it in your heart. Because it is the fear that gnaws away at you and robs you of your sleep just as surely as it fills my heart with dread."

Lancelot took another step towards her, grabbing her wrist to pull her closer, so that he could see all of her eerily serene face. His fingers dug into her skin hard enough to hurt, hard enough to leave her bruised. Still she returned his searing gaze with her own, her eyes dark and unreadable.

"I need to know...." He whispered harshly "Tell me what you see...."

"He will not need to be ruthless with you by his side....." Morgianna said, staring at his face. Now that his tight self- control was finally starting to fail him it showed all his conflicting emotions as plainly as a mirror.

"You are his stalwart, his rock; as long as you are with him no one can stand against this king and prevail. No one will be able to tear my brother down, not even his own kind heart. Together you can bring peace and justice and prosperity to this land. As long as you hold fast to your friendship, the love you have for each other, no man will have the strength nor the power to defeat him. You are his champion and as long as you stand together as one, no harm shall befall him...."

Lancelot let his breath come out in a sharp hiss, his hand falling from her wrist, his head bowing. All tension left his body that moment, leaving him tired and drained as he covered his face with his hands, squeezing his eyes shut.

_As long as you are with him ....._

Morgianna stood by and watched unmoving. She understood the feeling of defeat suddenly flooding him.....understood it all to well. It had been his choice, his question; knowledge was a burden in itself. Now he would have to carry it too, and it might wear him down just as it had weighed on her.

"That is not all, is it?" He asked after a while, looking up, gathering himself. She could see the knowledge in his eyes, the blooming understanding of what she had imparted on him....the slow horror of it spreading cross his handsome features, until he regained control.

"That is not all .....You and me, Morgianna....it's our doing. My fighting, your plotting that will keep Arthur from destroying himself, that will ensure his throne."

"Yes...." Morgianna said quietly, allowing the sadness she felt to fill her voice for once.

"And that means our failure could one day cost him everything...."


	16. Without Armour

DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE ....

NOTES: Thank you soo much for all the reviews. I cherish every one of them!!

Hope this makes up for he short chapter before!!!

**WITHOUT ARMOUR**

"You could have let me die....." Lancelot said quietly after a while, when the silence had already grown heavy between them. "My life was in your hands, if my failing might one day be a risk to Arthur, you could have just let me die."

Morgianna met his gaze, holding it for the space of several breaths. Then she shook her head lightly, her face and eyes still unreadable.

"That choice was never mine to make." She crossed her arms under her chest, hugging herself as though she suddenly felt cold.

"My brother loves you, Lancelot; More than kin, more than blood, more than honour or reason. The mere thought that it was not his life he was risking when he went against the Saxons never occurred to him until he saw you close to death, until he saw Tristan's broken body. The thought still tortures him.....the thought of being reckless with another life than his own. Among his knights, his family ....you are the first and he holds you above all else."

She took a deep breath, looking straight into the knight's eyes.

"Sometimes I think you both love like this, like brothers because it is the only way you know how to love one another. It is never good to love someone more than you love yourself. But in the end it matters not ...that choice was never mine and my brother may be weaker, but also so much stronger for it. It is done."

Lancelot stared at her for the longest time, not sure what to say or what to do. For a moment the impulse of hurting her was incredibly strong; to rage, to hate, to accuse .....But he had wanted to know and nothing he could do would make her words unsaid or less true.

It was so easy to blame her, but in his heart Lancelot knew that most of his anger was directed at himself. He had needed her to say these things, needed somebody else to spell out what he felt inside, so that he could not hide from himself. And she would just stand there, tall and proud, so much like her brother and yet, so different in her determination, in her disposition.....

Lancelot understood what she had seen so clearly, that there were things that Arthur would not do as king; things he would refrain from, lengths that he would loathe to go to. She could be ruthless, because it was something she had been taught to be. She might not like it, might loathe herself for it just like her brother would, but she would do those things none the less, if they had to be done. Arthur would die to save just one of his men......but his sister would lie, plot, deceive or kill for him.

A long, hard look passed between them that spoke more eloquently than words of the things they both knew and understood. And Lancelot could see that fleeting shimmer in her eyes that told him that Morgianna could see herself through his eyes and how much she dreaded what she saw.

It might not have been her choice to save his life, but at least a part of her had been relieved to share the burden of knowledge with another.

They could not afford to be enemies, they had to be allies, not just for Arthur's sake, but for their own .....

It was almost as though he could hear her whisper those words that she would never say out loud.

_I cannot do this alone ..._

Another bout of laughter floated over from the feast and made them both turn their heads to see Arthur and his young queen raising their cups to another toast.

They could see Arthur putting an arm around Guinevere's waist to pull her against his side almost instinctively, leaning down to better understand what she was laughingly telling him before he answered her, laughing too. Morgianna shrank back, deeper into the darkness that was cast by the tall tree as her brother's eyes swept over the celebrating Britons and woads.

"You are hiding from him." Lancelot said, not a question but a simple statement of fact.

"Would you really want me to bless their marriage bed?" she whispered back, arching a questioning brow at him.

Lancelot pressed his lips together and looked away, trying to reign in on his confused, conflicting emotions. What she saw when he looked up again, made Morgianna draw a shuddering, almost frightened breath. She stepped back until her back was against the tree.

In the blink of an eye the heat of his anger and despair had turned into a very different kind of fire. He tried to make sense of it all in the only way he knew how; attempting to fuse his conflicting emotions into something he could understand, something he could control, something he knew how to handle.

He moved in close in an almost threatening manner, leaning forward slightly as though he was trying to see her face in the dark, as though to whisper in her ear, but from the look on his face Morgianna could tell that was not his intent.

She put her palm up against his chest, to push him away, but the part of her soul where the young girl, who had seen his face in her dreams long before she had possessed the capacity to discern her visions meanings, still lived, stilled her attempt. Under her hand she could feel the steady, reassuring beat of his heart....so strong.

There was no smirk on his face now, no non- committal smile as his warm breath brushed over her face.

Lancelot moved his hands to both sides of her waist, not pulling or pushing, just resting there before he dipped his head down, leaving her enough time to step away.

Morgianna let her breath out in another calming flow. His lips met hers in a slow, almost tentive, yet probing kiss.....

As though he was testing the waters before closing the distance between their bodies. Not breaking the kiss Lancelot moved forward slightly and his arms came around her, pulling her up against him. For a moment Morgianna struggled against herself, her better judgement, her instinct. She could hear her own blood rushing through her veins, her pulse thundering in her temples...and she was overwhelmed by fear that made her want to run and hide.

This was it, this was the pinnacle moment she had foreseen, the comprehension that had shattered all the dreams of home, love and family the little girl she had once been had entertained; to hold the one thing she had seen in her dreams and understand that no matter how close she might be .....it was something she would never own, that would never be hers.

This was the fire that would burn her to a cinder....the blow that could cripple her, but she was so tired of running, of being strong, tired of planning and fighting.

So she moved her head to the side, her cheek resting against his.

"This will not make you happy....nor me. It will not make you forget."

She could feel the movement of his shoulders as he shrugged, his hands moving over her back, sliding into her hair.

"But it might be enough ...." He whispered into her ear, his voice raspy. Still standing close, holding her in the circle of his arms, Lancelot looked at her from up close, examining her face, her eyes. She looked back at him, framing his handsome face with her hands. They could be a comfort to each other this night, be what they both needed so desperately....to not feel alone.

"What will you have of me?"

" A night without armour .....yours and mine."

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In the golden light of the candles, Lancelot wondered how he had ever thought of her as plain.

She lay next to him, on her side, watching him watching her while his hand idly wandered up and down the curve of her hip. Her raven hair spread out around her like warm, liquid black silk.

The sounds of the feast had finally died down until there was nothing left but the silence between them, no words, just deeds .....Warm skin.

Now that Lancelot looked at her after all their passion and need had been satisfied, he found that Arthur's sister was still beautiful. She had been an equal partner, not a girl but a woman who had known how to give and take.

She watched him intently, with a golden fire in her eyes that implied that she thought him just as beautiful, just as intriguing and appealing as he had found her to be.

And the thought crossed Lancelot's mind how easy, how simple things could be if he could love her, if there could be a way ....

A shadow passed over Morgianna´s face and she closed her eyes. When she opened them again there was a trace of pain there, that had not been there before and he knew that she must have read some of what he was thinking on his face or in his eyes.

"I cannot make you love me, Lancelot. There is no magic for that."

"Really?" he asked, reaching out to take her hand. He had seen it in her eyes, felt it in her touch....a part of her loved him. It was the reason she had feared to save his life, the reason she had dreaded the day they would meet.....a part of her had longed for him.

If her powers could make him fall in love with her, make him forget the other face he saw in his dreams, could make him forget how much he wanted what he should not want ....if she could make him forget and love her, they would all be safe, they could all be happy.

" Is there truly a limit to your powers such as this?" he asked with a laugh, clothing his question into a joke as he propped himself up on one elbow to better look at her.

"Why would you ask?" Morgianna asked quietly, watching a self deprecating smile stretch his lips.

"On our travels through the empire...." Lancelot said, his voice even and calm, "and also this land we heard tales of many a man completely bespelled by a woman's beauty and charms, the lures of a gifted witch. Men who lost their minds, forfeited their land, their fortunes, even their lives for just one more glimpse of that face that made them forget everything and all...."

He looked at her intently, waiting to see if his story could coax a reaction from her and Morgianna could read the plea in his eyes. If she could tell him that it might be true, that she could make it so that he loved her instead .....Then all could be well. And in her heart she knew that if the solution were this easy, none of them would have to suffer.....but it had never been as simple as that.

"Magic can do many things...." Morgianna whispered, each word heavy on her tongue as though they were made of lead.

"It brought Tristan back from the land of the dead....and now you mean to tell me it cannot give birth to love?"

"Everything has its price, Lancelot!" Morgianna tried to pull away from him, but he held her hand tight in his, his other weighing down on her waist, willing her to look at him.

He was not one to beg, he never had been, but in his yes she could see the conflict springing to life again, the fight in him to do right by his king, his friend and the pain of knowing that his own feelings might one day betray him.

"Name it, Morgianna.....whatever it is you shall have of me."

She shook her head, her throat so tight it hurt.

"Have you no love for me?"

Morgianna stilled, staring at him in utter desolation and confusion. The desperate, raw look in his eyes was enough to break her heart.

_I have loved you all my life ......._

It changed nothing. He was offering her what she had dreamed of as a young girl, when she had still believed that the handsome young man that haunted her dreams was the prince, the hero who would one day come and take her away. But she was not that young girl anymore, she knew better now.

" My powers.....magic as you call it, can do many things. It can stir desire. It can make you long for your lover's touch, make you crave it like a starving man craves sustenance, like the drowning man struggles to reach the shore ...."

Morgianna whispered in an attempt to explain. Her voice becoming low and husky as her hand reached out to brush over the plains of his stomach, bringing his breath in a throaty gasp due to the heat that sprung from her hovering touch. Lancelot's eyes widened in amazement, but Morgianna´s smile was bitter and sad.

"This power may touch the body, may bewilder the mind. It may make you believe that you love someone, but it can never touch the heart. No matter how much you wish it, it can never make you feel it, not in truth."

She pulled her hand back slowly, caressing his body with her eyes as she had done with her hands not too long ago.

"Making someone believe himself in love in such a way is nothing more than an illusion. It can make you believe, but it will never be real....not in your heart"

"Maybe even the illusion of love is better ...."

" No..." Morgianna shook her head, sadly, sitting up. She reached for a woollen cloak, pulling it around her shoulders tight enough to hurt. Suddenly she felt more naked in front of him than she had when they had been making love.

"You do not understand. A spell like that is not just mere illusion, Lancelot ....it is ..."

"A lie?" he asked her with that familiar challenge in his voice, the expression on his face now just as guarded and closed off as hers usually was. He had opened himself to her, had laid his fears bare at her feat and asked her to help him as only she could ....and she had denied him. It was all there and Morgianna understood his anger, but she also knew that he did not understand her reasons or he did not want to understand.

"Slavery...."she answered him and the word seemed to slither through the room like a poisonous snake.

Morgianna wanted to reach out to him, but was afraid that he would shrink back from her, so she remained sitting there, looking at him so very still.

"You told my brother once that you detest everything that brings a man to his knees. And now you of all people would ask for something like this, because you think it will cool your desire for another, make you forget and give you peace of mind. But you do not know what it is you are asking for...."

Looking at him staring back at her with narrowed eyes, Morgianna knew that even though it lay in her power to give him what he wanted, she would not, could not bring herself to take that step....no matter what it might cost them in the long run. She could not bear the thought of seeing him like that.

" A spell like that...." She whispered, her voice toneless now that all her feelings of warmth and comfort were seeping away from her like that passion she had felt, leaving her cold and sad. " ...it will not bring you the peace you long for. A spell like that would not bring you to your knees, my brave knight. It would make you crawl."


	17. Works of Mercy

DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE

NOTES: Sorry it takes me soooooo long! WORK ..Busy ..etc! There will be more soon! Thanks for the nice reviews, it means a lot that somebody likes this!

**Works of Mercy**

There was a feeling of unease Morgianna could not shake. She had watched Nimue's arrival from the wall and looking at the young woman from afar, she could not help but smile. The young girl she had once known had grown into a beautiful woman with wide eyes, blue as cornflowers, milk-white skin and long golden hair. Here features were not as schooled as Morgianna´s yet, so very so often her mask of calm would slip and show open feelings of delight and curiosity once she had passed the watchtowers and the gates. A part of Morgianna was almost saddened to burden her young apprentice with all the responsibilities she had carried for so long, but a part of her had grown egoistic in the short period since she had reunited with her brother. She felt her place was here now, by his side ….and not just to ensure that everything would play out as Viviane and Merlin had wished so fervently. Her aunt had given her whole life, her dying breath for this cause. And yet, Morgianna had long since begun to see Arthur and his knights as more than a means to an end. Viviane had warned her about this, as much as her reams had warned her. Once again she quelled the fear that looking at Nimue brought to her heart. If there was doubt in the young woman's mind about the position she was about to take on, Morgianna did not want to know. She was beautiful enough to tempt any man….maybe even the stalwart Arthur might be lured by all that beauty…

She could hear Bors and Gawain approaching her from behind her back, walking towards her and turned to face them.

"This morning finds you well?" she asked with a mild smile, watching Bors grimace at her with faint amusement.

"If your druids can bring men back from the dead, they might want to spend some time on coming up with a safe cure for my headache. " He grumbled. Still, there was something about their looks that told her, that the news of how she had spent a night with their friend had travelled fast. Morgianna chose to pay it no heed and followed Gawain´s gaze instead. The young knight's eyes were fixed on Nimue as she was helped from her horse by Merlin.

"Look at him, awake for an hour after a night of drinking, a few days since we decided to stay in this forsaken place and already Gawain is on the look out for a beautiful Briton to marry."

Gawain laughed, his gaze settling on Morgianna.

"You said you might help me find a suitable match." he said, shrugging with a roguish smile.

"Not her …." Morgianna said softly, the feeling of dread returning only to be squashed again by her pure will. "Trust me on this."

"She's one of yours?" Bors asked, nodding towards the yard where Merlin and Nimue were already immersed in a conversation. The young woman was shaking her head repeatedly, looking at her feet, obviously growing more distraught with every breath she took.

"Excuse me…." Morgianna whispered to the two men, walking swiftly towards the stairway. This time the growing feeling of wariness would not be silenced. Instead it blossomed in Morgianna´s chest like a cold, malignant flower until it was hard to breathe….

It took her a moment to catch up with Merlin and the girl as the walked from the centre of the yard towards a more secluded area, where Nimue could sit down in the shade. As Morgianna approached, they both fell silent. Nimue rose immediately, when her eyes fell on her mentor, bowing her head low. "Greetings my lady…." She whispered.

Morgianna´s eyes wandered from her to Merlin whose face was as unreadable as ever.

"Something is amiss." She stated, watching him with a calmness that did not betray the turmoil she felt inside. Merlin returned her serene, searching look for a while in silence. Then he took a deep breath and spoke. "I fear I will be forsworn, as will you. Whatever I promised you, it seems now that I promised you a freedom that was never mine to grant. You cannot rescind your duties, Morgianna."

Nimue stood by in silence, perfectly still like a rabbit trying to be overlooked by two big, hungry snakes. Morgianna swallowed, feeling her mouth going dry and her heartbeat picking up. "I do not see why. Nimue has been thoroughly trained by me. She is very capable. If it is fear that keeps you from accepting this office, child, I can assure you it is baseless. I was much younger than you when I wore the cloak of the lady for the first time. Do not fear, Nimue. I hold you in very high esteem, as you very well know and I will entrust you with my succession with all confidence that you are the right choice."

Nimue raised her eyes to Morgianna and there was an openness and defeat in her face that made Morgianna´s breath go shallow.

"I cannot …." Nimue whispered her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Forgive me, my lady, for I am not worthy."

Morgianna could feel anger stir in herself. She shook her head. "You speak nonsense, Nimue. You are very capable."

"But lacking none the less." Merlin said gravely, looking at the girl who lowered her head again. "I will leave you two to discuss this matter." He took Morgianna´s hand and for a moment his face became soft and almost sad. He kissed her hand lightly. "Find me when all is said." He added sternly before walking away with brisk steps.

Morgianna watched him go, the feeling of dread making her sick to her stomach.

"What is it, Nimue?" she asked quietly, looking at the young woman who still stood in front of her as motionless as a statue, as though the confrontation with Merlin had sucked all strength right out of her. She lifted her head, taking a deep breath. Her blue eyes still bright with tears she would not allow herself to cry. "I failed you, Morgianna." She whispered, looking embarrassed and inconsolable at the same time.

"I do not see how you could have …"

"Beltane…" she interrupted, wringing her hands. " The sight did not come to me since then."

"What are you talking about?"

"It seems that my ability to see depended on my chastity, Morgianna. You were gone, so I was chosen to take your place as vessel for the goddess on the night of Beltane. I can still see through the Hawthorn-smoke, but not as clear or vivid and true as I used too….not like you."

Morgianna could do nothing but stare at her apprentice in shock. This she had not foreseen.

"The true sight evades me now." Nimue confessed in a sore voice, as though she had been screaming for a very long time. "I cannot command it anymore; it will not come to me."

Morgianna remained silent, looking at Nimue but not really seeing her as thoughts and implications rushed through her head.

"The elders have agreed that I can be your stadholder, your eyes and voice behind the mist, so that you may stay at your brother's side as you promised. But they cannot abide you leaving your office behind. I can only be the lady in name. The land does not answer to my call; it does not recognize me anymore."

She let out a shuddering breath, finally giving in to the tears that were starting to flow across her cheeks. Nimue grabbed for Morgianna´s hands, holding them so tight it hurt.

"I failed you, sister." She sobbed, shaking her head in sorrow. It made the sunlight catch and shimmer on her honey-blond hair. "You who thought so highly of me, whom I loved so dearly…..forgive me, Morgianna. I did not know ….I had not foreseen, why did I not foresee this? Please forgive me!"

"Neither did I …" Morgianna whispered tonelessly, staring at the other woman. "Some things we cannot see, they are shrouded in mist. It is not your fault." Without even noticing she held out her arms and Nimue leaned into her, hiding her face on her shoulder like a scared child while her tears seeped into the cloth of Morgianna´s dress. She hardly felt it, one hand stroking Nimue's hair almost automatically while she stared into the distance.

"This is not your fault…" she said again, closing her eyes. The fault was her own, she realized. She could feel a coldness go through her, leaving her numb and empty.

She had made the unforgivable mistake, the beginner's mistake….and now not only she but all she loved might pay the price. Like an untrained beginner she had entertained the vain, idle hope that now that she had seen the future, she could change it. No matter how one turned the coin…..sometimes even the actions undertaken to change the flow of events was what would bring the foreseen outcome about. Sometimes the attempt to change the future was indeed the trigger of worse things to come. She had known and yet she had dared to hope…just like Merlin…that some things might be changed. But the dice had fallen and nothing any of them had done could overturn them…..

Long after she had sent Nimue away to clean herself up and rest, Morgianna sat under the oak tree, keeping from sight and watching the sky grow paler. How could she face her brother? What could she tell him? There was nothing to say …..

And to think that she had told Lancelot not to put his hope into idle magic that would make none of them happy …..Only to find herself at the same point. There was nothing she could do ….and yet, there was nothing he would not do …

The faint rustling of grass was all that whispered of Tristan´s approach." You have been missed." He said simply, watching her intently from behind dark strands of her. Events had shifted, she knew he could feel it, even if he would never breathe a word of it.

Morgianna turned to the knight with a face that looked like it was carved from stone.

"All is lost …"


	18. SHADOWS AND STRONGHOLDS

DISCLAIMER: If I owned all these great man I'd ……you know.

NOTES: THANX to all you reviewers and FLAMINGMUSHROOMZ for a good kick in my lazy butt! I feel very privileged that people are still interested in this story and I will try to update more often. Alas ..hardly any time to write since I took that new job where I am slaving away all day (even on freaking holidays grrrrrrrrrrrrr) There will be more chapters and this is just a setup for several things .

The Chapter Title is taken from a great book .

**SHADOWS AND STRONGHOLDS**

„So …you will leave? " Arthur asked, looking at her. When Morgianna had appeared in the hall to talk to him, he had almost thought he was looking at a ghost. Gone were the colourful garments and ribbons that had bedazzled his men just a few nights ago. Gone were the mirth and the carelessness that had made Morgianna seem much younger than her actual years. She stood in front of him now again in the ceremonial grey robes and cloak of the lady, shrouded in the power that station entailed. She was pale and her face, though showing nothing but her usual calmness, carried a hint of exhaustion and resignation. Several of the servants Venora had already taken into service to maintain order in the ever growing garrison had told tales of a woman wailing at night, crying and sobbing. But Arthur knew that the sounds had not come from his sister but the young woman who had travelled far to see her. As to why she was crying so persistently….his guess had been as good as any man's. Until this morning. Morgianna had explained that the beautiful Nimue had been groomed by her to take her place just like Viviane had once taught Morgianna….but something had changed all that. Something had made the young woman unfit for the position, something that Morgianna did not divulge. Neither had Merlin, but his stern face had spoken of his disappointment.

The pale light of morning falling through a window caught in his sisters long raven hair as she shook her head. There was the merest shadow of a smile in her face when she answered.

"No. I will not leave, I made a promise to my brother that I would not desert him and I will not be forsworn." She gave a sigh, watching Arthur . He was adjusting his position in the artfully carved armchair for what had to be the dozenth time. They were alone now, but before Arthur had told the servants and craftsman to leave, everybody had been busy working in what was soon to become known as the throne room. She knew her brother did not feel comfortable with this. She knew he still did not see himself as a king, even if he had taken on the responsibility of uniting the tribes and warlords under his banner, even if he felt obliged to protect all those who were now his. He had to learn to grow into the title, as Merlin had repeatedly told her. She had to help him; she had to ease his mind where his young queen could not. Whatever else came after that …Morgianna did not want to think about. He was her brother, her blood. She had not lied when she had told Lancelot that she would kill for him. A lifetime spent apart did not change her loyalties or her conviction.

"But you will retain your title…your authority?"

Morgianna nodded, giving her brother a serious look, willing him to understand. "There is no one else, Arthur. At least not now … the other girls I trained are too young. There is no one but me. Nimue will return to the sacred island and be my stadholder; my voice, my eyes , my ears behind the mists. I will remain here by your side as promised…if you still want me here under those circumstances."

Arthur would not give voice to his relief, but the thought of her staying, lifted a weight from his shoulders. He longed to have his sister near, more than he dared to admit even to himself. But it was not just the sister he was glad to have under his roof. The authority Merlin had among the Britons worried him, the length the druids went to in order to have their plans realised…having the lady of the lake on his side was an advantage.

"I need my knights, Morgianna. Their support, their steadfastness and their courage if I am to make this land whole ….if that is indeed my destiny. I will need their support and yours, for no one knows as much about these people as you do. But I also need my sister. After years of thinking she was dead, I would loathe to lose her again."

She smiled, looking at his face, before she took the hand he held out to her. "Then I will stay."

"Good." Arthur laughed, reaching for a goblet of wine on a tray nearby. "Then come and sit with me and tell me about this Marke of Tintangel I am supposed to meet."

For a moment Morgianna was overwhelmed with the smell of the sea, the call of hundreds of seagulls, Tristan's calm dark eyesand a stab of heartbreak so profound that she thought the feeling might tear her asunder. But in the space of a heartbeat the feeling was gone. She took a deep, calming breath, wishing not for the first time that it had not been Nimue's gift that had been spoiled, but her own. Her face showed none it, her features serene and unreadable as ever. She took a seat next to her brother, studying the letter written in formal Latin that announced Marke's wish to meet with Arthur in a few days time.

"Tintangel is the name of his stronghold. He rules the bigger part of Cornwall and as a lord he is well liked by the people." Morgianna smiled slightly, looking into her brother's eyes.

"I think you and your men will come to like him. He has Gawain´s sweet temper and can drink and curse like Bors. He can fight with the best of them, but he takes care of his people. You will find he might prove to be a steadfast ally, if you win him over."

---------------------------------------------------------------

"I know that look." Venora said, putting downa plate heavy with freshly baked bread and cheese. She sat down next to Morgianna, who had been sitting at a table outside, silently watching the knights at the other end of the yard, soaking up the last warm rays of sunlight. Bors, Gawain and Galahad were immersed in some kind of contest which apparently involved hurling several lethal looking battle axes.

"Which one?" Morgianna returned softly, watching Nimue walk by the knights with a bucket of water. Gawain put down the axe he had been twirling and approached her with a bow, obviously offering to carry the heavy bucket for the young woman. After several exchanged sentences she relented, walking next to the knight with downcast eyes.

" The one you have been giving them all day…" Venora answered gesturing to the rest of the knights. "I know it well because it is the same look I will find in my own face at times, even I pass by a clear puddle or a bucket of water in the yard. Then I see it. You look at them with the worried expression of a mother hen fearing for her brood. Hardly surprising I guess…" she volunteered with a sigh. "…considering who you are. You've got to think of all of us as you kin."

Morgianna turned her head to look at Verona's pretty face, marvelling at the strength she saw in the woman's eyes. Venora had not had the easiest life; a mother of a whole brood of offspring by a knight who might have recognized all his children by her, but still had not found the time their mother. But she had grown into her new office managing the garrison's household with unexpected ease and success. Venora gave her an understanding smile as though she had read Morgianna´s thoughts in her serene face.

"You are the lady of the lake, the keeper of this land and I am glad, lady, that you have decided to stay." She said respectfully, nodding her head. "But Allmother doesn't have to mean, you have to be mother to all. Where do you go in times of need? You are a daughter yourself. Where do you go, when you need the reassurance of a mother?"

Morgianna could not help, but offer the other woman a sad smile. It was not often that her dilemma was seen and understood this clearly by another.

"Does Bors even know how wise a woman he fathered his children on?" she asked.

Venora scoffed, pushing her hair back over her shoulders. "Better not to let him know. It'll steal his sleep, poor man."

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Lancelot bit his lip, turning his back on the merry meeting in the great hall. The round table had been situated there and they had sat together and dined and drunkenly exchanged jests and war-stories like old times. But when all the candles had burnt down and the roaring fire in the fireplace had died down to glowing embers, Guinevere's slender shadow had lingered in the hallway, beckoning Arthur to come to bed. He bit his lip again, realizing how his feet carried him across the yard until he stood in front of her door. She would stay, Arthur had said. Lancelot did not know whether to be glad or angry. Still…this night he was not sure where else to go, even if he did not know what he was searching for. There was sadness in her eyes when she looked at him. The knowledge that she could not give him what he needed, the knowledge that he could not give her anything …

She was just as slender, but taller …more willowy than Guinevere. She opened the door, looking at him as though she had known …maybe she had. Lancelot found that he did not care. She was his ally, but a part of him could not help but see the enemy. She knew him so well and there was no reason, no way she could. He was angry at her, angry at himself …torn between the desire for a girl he had seen become queen and his love and loyalty for her husband, his best friend ….his king.

He hated her and he hated himself ….and she saw it all.

"Give me peace, Morgianna. I beg of you ….give me peace." Was all he said, whispered in a rough toneless voice as he fell to his knees, burying his face in the soft cloth of her dress. He fisted his hands into the fabric so hard, he thought it might tear any moment.

"I wish I could. Were it in my power …" He felt her hands on top of his head like a benediction. She stroked his hair with warm hands, almost like his mother might have done ….he could not remember.

"Do you know…" she whispered, her voice suddenly brittle like dry leaves, defeated and tired and filled with sadness. "Do you know what a burden it is to know and yet be unable to change the fate of those you love? Because the smallest thing altered might have already decided….everything?"

"Then why bother?" he asked, his voice rough with feeling. He could feel her shaking and looked up to find that she was laughing tonelessly, her face sad. "Because this is the way of the world, my role, my part …In this I have nothing to gain and everything to loose. Just like you."


	19. Dominion

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.

NOTES: Hey...it did not take me months to update! Hope you are still interested …the plot thickens!

**Dominion**

After another insistent knock, Morgianna opened the door to her chambers far enough to let the bright light of morning seep into the room. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of a young woman she barely remembered meeting once before.

"Yes?" she asked her voice clear and even. If the early visitor had expected to find the king's sister in disarray so early in the morning she was bound to be disappointed. Not one hair was out of place. Her pale skin still held a rosy tint from being washed with cold water; her black hair was freshly combed and held back from her face by a simple ribbon. She wore a simple robe of moss green wool, the scent of dried flowers still clinging to her. "Milady, the queen bids you to …."

The young woman curtsied, averting her gaze with a gasp when her eyes fell upon Lancelot's naked chest. The knight had sat up in the unmade bed, running one hand through his tousled hair as his eyes assessed the situation. He rolled his eyes in distaste and cocked an eyebrow at Morgianna.

"The queen?" Morgianna asked the girl again, closing the door a fraction to shield Lancelot from her prying eyes. Only a slight coolness in her tone hinted at her impatience. The girl caught it none the less. "The queen requests your company, my lady. She is in need of your counsel."

"Tell her I will come." The girl looked at her feet, afraid to look up into Morgianna´s eyes. She had heard tales about the King's sister who was supposed top be a sorceress. Her own family had converted to Christendom, but she knew about the power the lady of the lake was said to command. She resisted the urge to whisper a prayer. Instead she curtsied again and hurried to convey the message to her mother, who was waiting on the queen.

Morgianna closed the door, turning to Lancelot.

"You could not have pretended to be asleep for a few more moments?" she asked.

Lancelot shrugged, giving her a shadow of his roguish smile. It made her heartbeat quicken and her heart fill with sadness at the smile time. The smile was for her, but part of it was strained and painful. He was mocking himself and it hurt to see.

"She will hardly keep that tasty morsel of news to herself; by noon everyone in the garrison will know where you spent the night."

"Afraid I will tarnish your reputation?" he asked with a smirk, pulling his shirt over his head.

Morgianna lifted her eyebrows. "I am the lady, to those who follow the old path I am sacrosanct, my words stands. I owe no explanation to any man and can bestow my favour where I see fit. To those who have converted, I am a witch, so it does not matter. They may not believe but they at least fear….I was more concerned for you. I did not think you want this ….." she held out her arms to encompass the room "…known to anyone."

There was a flicker in his eyes and Morgianna knew her words had struck a chord of truth.

He nodded, looking at his feet like a sullen boy for a moment. He knew she had seen what he did not want to admit to himself.

"Forgive me …" he said, his voice raw. "Sometimes I do not know myself …" He reached out, taking her hand. Morgianna just stood there, looking on as he kissed the back of her hand and held it to his forehead for a while. His posture was both defeated and defiant at the same time. She marvelled at how this young man could blend that many conflicting emotions together. One day they were bound to tear him asunder. She knew and the knowledge made her throat tight. But not yet ….not yet …

Her other hand touched his hair and he looked up from where he was sitting.

"There is nothing to forgive." Morgianna said softly, touching his cheek before she gently pulled away. She walked out the door without looking back.

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Guinevere was sitting in a wooden bathtub broad enough for two grown men, laid out with linen. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted backwards. Her pretty face held an expression torn between impatience, annoyance and resignation. She was a creature of conflicts, just like Arthur ….just like Lancelot. Steam rose from the hot water in the tub and Morgianna noted the strong scent of herbs mingling with the dried petals of different flowers that floated on the milky surface of the water. The women had looked up and curtsied as she entered. A significant look from the king's sister was enough to send them out of the room.

Guinevere did not open her eyes, but Morgianna could tell that the young woman was well aware of what was happening around her.

"Can you believe what they are doing?" she sighed, running her slender fingers through her wet hair with a sigh. Morgianna stepped closer, since Guinevere was obviously not bothered by the thought of being naked around her. She sat up, opening her eyes.

"We are married for no longer than a fortnight and already they are dunking me in …this…." Guinevere said, her voice taking on a slightly bitter tone. "Not even a month….Morgianna."

Arthur's sister gave her the shadow of a smile, deeply inhaling the spicy mixture of herbs and flowers. "I see the fertility-charms are already beginning…." She surmised.

She could understand Guinevere's impatience. For a young bride and queen of only a few weeks to feel already pressured in this manner was not easy.

"All these women suddenly waiting on me, following me ….expecting answers and orders from me! I was a chieftain's daughter, I know my duty to my husband and my people but this is ridiculous!"

"I would seem …a little hasty to drench you in seven different fertility-drugs at the same time." Morgianna agreed her face calm but hiding a trace of humour that Guinevere perceived none the less. Guinevere looked at the water with a disbelieving sneer.

"I should think so…"

Morgianna folded her hands in front of her gown, assessing the emotions on Guinevere's face.

It seemed that the rumours about Lancelot that were bound to spring up had not yet reached her ears. She was too upset with this other thing, it seemed.

"They know you have shared my brother's bed long before you were married." Morgianna shrugged. "Pressure like this is never good. I would advice you not to take it to heart, but I know that it is easier said than done. I am sure my brother does not see you as cattle and I am also sure he does not expect you to conceive a child immediately, Guinevere."

The young queen took a deep breath. "I know …I know this has nothing to with him. It just …bewilders me."

Her pale eyes watched Morgianna. It would never cease to amaze Guinevere how much Arthur was akin to his sister and how different they were at he same time. The lady of the lake was an austere presence, a commanding woman. Sometimes it seemed to Guinevere that nothing could shake her, she was always so controlled, so calm….always looked at the world with such knowing eyes. As a child of the old ways Guinevere had been taught respect and veneration for the position, but sometimes she wondered how much of the awe Morgianna was inspiring was her station and how much of it was indeed Morgianna herself.

"The people are still uncertain, not everything is yet in order….in balance for this land." Morgianna said with that soothing tone she usually used to talk to Arthur. "They need time, maybe even a manifestation of that new order…of their future's security. One might say that is why some might be so intent on my brother fathering an heir as soon as possible." Still, Morgianna could well imagine Arthur's reaction to this foolishness.

Guinevere pursed her lips and sighed again. She leaned forward with a pleading look. "I know…" she licked her lips, looking directly into Morgianna´s face. "That is why I need you counsel….your wisdom."

Morgianna returned the look, a feeling of dread growing in her chest like some malignant flower. Inwardly she thanked Viviane for the years of training…..

_They can never know what you feel, they can never know what you think….not even the druids, child, not even those closest to you. You are the lady; you are above emotion, calm as the lake, unfathomable as its depths. You can never show what is inside…an enemy might use it to destroy you; a friend might find truths you can not afford to unveil…._

_Wear your face like a mask, Morgianna. Be composed and impenetrable…and no enemy will conquer us, our people will prevail._

In the space of a breath Morgianna could feel her face fall into that unreadable, empty expression she had been schooled to show the world, a calm exterior promising nothing while the storm raged inside. Guinevere did not seem to notice.

"What would you have of me?" She asked kindly, but her voice sounded hollow in her own ears.

"You know …." Guinevere whispered, giving her a trusting smile. "You know everything."

"Hardly…."

"You can see my future, you can tell me ….if there will be a child, a son for Arthur and me. So that …I can rest assured and not …let them torture me with all this anymore."

"You are young, Guinevere." Morgianna told her softly. "You are young and healthy. I do not need to see into the future to know that you are also strong. Why should you worry yourself so? You have so much time ahead of you to conceive an heir."

"Yes…" Guinevere said, pulling her knees up to her chest. "I know …but I would feel reassured if I could hear it from your lips, from the lady." Her eyes were bright as she said it.

Morgianna closed her eyes, summoning all the calm she had.

Itwas yet to be….that door had not closed yet.

"There will come a time for you to conceive…soon." Morgianna opened her eyes and looked at the young woman before her. Two paths she had seen, a moment of weakness or strength on her part would decide …all their fates, everything ….this young woman held it in the palm of her hand without even knowing it.

Morgianna stepped closer, squeezing Guinevere's hand tight. "Soon, my queen, soon. It is all a question of the right time." She looked deep into the younger woman's eyes, willing her to understand how much depended on her. But no matter how much she wished it, she could not tell her. If she did no good would come of it.

"Then you see a child."

Morgianna forced herself to smile and nodded, a deep sadness piercing her heart.

"Aye …there is a child in my brother's future."

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He arrived in the midst of a gathering storm.

"What is he doing?" Gawain asked up on the garrison's stronghold, watching Marke of Tintangel and his entourage with their banners and spears firmly planted on the ground, waiting patiently in front of the gates.

"Waiting …." Tristan said simply, caressing his falcon's feathers.

"Waiting for what? The gates are open!" Galahad returned, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Finally Marke was dismounting his horse. The knights watched as a figure emerges from a side-door near the gates.

He could have ridden through those gates like the guest he was. A part of Morgianna felt like scolding him like a child, but an inner voice scolded her instead. It was an old tradition that Marke had been taught to honour and traditions had to be observed. Yet, Morgianna knew she had to make him understand that now that her brother was king, there had to be new traditions to honour him.

"Welcome, my lord. I invite you to be a guest and friend at my brother's fires."

Marke held up his hand without looking, helping a fragile blond woman from her horse. He had brought his sister Ilene, she noted with satisfaction. Marke was earnest in his pursuit of peace.

"Blessed mother, I come in reverence." He said with his deep voice, raw from the wind and travel. He kneeled before her, his head bowed. "Counsel me, lady and grant my your grace. Bless me so that I will do right by my people and….my future king…." At this he lifted his eyes to hear to give her a questioning look.

Morgianna gave him a warm smile, lifting his head.

"Be welcome in my brother's hall, Marke of Tintangel. May peace be with you and your people, may your harvest be plentiful and your decisions as wise as ever."

He stood up straight, a bear of a man with broad shoulders and a red beard. His laughter was full and warm. "It is good to see you again, my lady."

Where Marke was dark and broad, his sister Ilene was fair anddainty like a daisy, a walkingray of sunlight.

Morgianna nodded. "I am glad you have come and I hope we shall hear your sisters enchanting voice grace us with a song."


	20. Beyond Repair

DISCLAIMER: Right ..like I own any of this.

NOTES: Thanks again to PINK-SISI who reminded me to kick my lazy Muses ass. Hopefully this will not disappoint. There will be another chapter next week

**BEYOND REPAIR**

"It is a shame…" Venora said, taking a seat next to Morgianna. They both watched Arthur's knights listening to some story Marke was entertaining them with. Laughing and joking in the shade of a tall oak tree. It had taken Arthur and his friends only a few days to grow fond of the young, tall man, just as Morgianna had predicted. While Marke was telling his story, his sister Ilene said in the background, idly plucking the strings of the small harp she held on her lap.

Venora shook her head. Ilene had turned many a man's head since their arrival and it was plain to see that Marke had brought her in order to possibly strengthen his alliance with Arthur by a convenient marriage. But both Venora and Morgianna knew that Marke himself was only to aware of the one flaw in that design. There was a reason why the beautiful Ilene was not yet married at the age of 22. "It really is a shame…" Venora said again.

"She is such a beautiful, sweet-tempered girl. She sings like a nightingale, but …" she sighed."Most every mother I know would counsel her son to look for another wife."  
Morgianna pursed her lips as Venora turned to look at her with a frown.  
" He has not just brought her here to parade her around in front of Arthur's friends, has he? He has come to ask your advice, to enlist your help." It was more statement than question. Morgianna had to smile. Venora was a shrewd woman, a mother of a whole brood of children. Her perceptive eye had seen, what most men had missed.

"He has." She answered simply, shaking her head." But there was nothing I could see for him, his sister's future is shrouded in mist … maybe he should have asked you for advice instead."  
The other woman shook her brown mane of hair, arching her eyebrows.  
"There are some things one can see without the gift. He did not need to seek you out as the lady. The woman you are will have counselled him just as well."  
Her eyes returned to Ilene. "She is too small, to narrow in the hips. All that dainty beauty will never support a child. The poor thing, even if she carried one to term, she'd never live through childbirth …" she said with a sad tone. "She knows it too. Her mother and the midwife must have been singing that song since she was old enough to bleed. That is not a way for a girl to grow up."

"No, it is not." Morgianna agreed. "And her brother loves her dearly. He could have just married her to one of his men and make sure he never fathered a child on her, but he wants Ilene. And she wants a family. So he brought her here."

"And still no man will have her …cause even for love… What man does not want a son?" sighed Venora, shaking her head again.  
" The poor girl."

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"There is nothing I can tell you, that you have not heard before.." Morgianna told Marke. He looked up from his mulled wine, a look of utter desperation on his handsome face. He sat at the table in her small chamber, the fire casting dancing shadows in his features.

"Forgive me, revered mother. I thought that maybe …your gift would show you a way ...for me to ensure my sister's happiness. She's all the family I have left. I thought maybe …"

"I know what you thought." Morgianna said mildly. "You thought a marriage would strengthen your bond with my brother and your sister is a great beauty. She would make a good wife to one of my brother's men."

Marke took a sharp breath. "I do not see my sister as a pawn or cattle to be traded." He said pointedly. Morgianna looked him into the eyes, her face unreadable, but inside she could feel his anger and his sadness like a dull blade. She could understand his reasoning too, his desperation and the burden he carried. All he wanted, was to make those dear to him safe and happy. But when it came to Ilene ... her gift had nothing to show her.

"I did not take you for that sort of a man, Marke of Tintangel." She said evenly. Realizing his tone, Marke bowed his head. "Forgive my lady. I did not mean to give offence."  
"You did no such ting." Morgianna refilled his cup. "I regret that there is nothing I can tell you, that will ease your fears.  
Your sister is …"

"Her hips are to narrow for childbirth. Yes …seven midwives consulted and they all agree. But Ilene will not hear of it. She wants to be a good wife and a good mother. She knows the danger but she yearns for a home and a hearth. Sometimes I think it would be easier to strike a match for her if she were barren …"

He looked at her.

"There are ways of ensuring that a woman does not conceive. " Morgianna answered his unspoken question, hating the flare of hope in the young man's face. "But that is a decision I would not let any man make for any woman …not even if he was her loving brother …"

Since her conversation with Marke, Morgianna could not free herself of that thought. Something was constantly teasing her mind; a nagging thought, not yet formed. A fleeting sensation, like someone tugging ever so lightly at her sleeve, something she could not place and it was unnerving her. On the outside she was calm and serene as ever, sitting with her brother while he discussed the matters of his ever growing state with his knight's and slowly forming council, entertaining the guests that still came from far and wide. And all the while something dark and bitter haunted her dreams, something she could not name or describe.

"You are not well…" Tristan said in his usual calm voice, his dark eyes searching her face.

He came up next to her on the third evening, as she stared into growing twilight.

"Something is amiss …I cannot yet see it, but I feel it. And it makes me shiver .." She whispered, looking up at him. For once her face not set in stone, her feelings clearly written across the tired lines of her features. Tristan nodded. "It will come to you in time." He said, his voice reassuring. "You are the lady , aren't you?"

A smile crossed her face. "Have you always been so wise, my friend?" The moment she said it, her words struck a chord in her. They looked at each other in silence for a moment.

"I am your friend, lady." Tristan said quietly, nodding.

"Good …" Morgianna whispered, more to herself than to him. "I do not have many friends."

She had never been allowed friends….they were a weakness, a liability, or so Viviane had impressed on her when her training began. The lady was a mystery, all knowing, all seeing, untouchable. Nobody could hold the power to see behind that façade.  
"It could be our undoing" Viviane had said. But often enough, Morgianna had seen the price her aunt had paid for the calling. Her sons had been taken away, fostered by other women. Few of them even knowing that she was their real mother. Her aunt had been lonely …until Morgianna had come and filled that void. She shook her had, chasing those thoughts away as her eyes caught Ilene, sitting down on the other side of the yard. She could feel the knowledge, the certainty of what had been nagging her flow into her like a breath.

The conversation with Marke ..it had lingered on her mind ..and now she knew why.

She could feel her feature turn to stone again as she tuned around and walked briskly towards the kitchens. She felt, more than saw Tristan silently falling in step behind her. Servants that were preparing to set up for dinner, hurried out of her path.

Tristan did not ask what she was doing or where they were going, he just followed her like a silent shadow. Several kitchen maids looked up from their work as she walked by them until she found the girl she had been looking for. The girl was immersed in her work, preparing a rich red wine with honey and spicy herbs. Morgianna´s hand shot out with the quickness of a striking snake as she grabbed the girl's wrist before she could add the last batch of herbs to the wine. Her eyes widened. "Revered mother.." she whispered, bowing her head.

Morgianna recognized her as one of the druid's daughters.

"You've been schooled in the old ways." Morgianna stated, her voice cold and harsh.

"Yes, my lady" the girl said.

"Who told you to do this?"

The girl swallowed, staring at Morgianna in horror. "I know what you are doing, now tell me who ordered you to add this to the queen's wine."

"Is something amiss?" Venora asked, sending the other girls who had been watching the spectacle back to work.

"I take it this does not belong in your kitchen?" Morgianna asked, holding out the small herb-Pouched out to Venora who smelled it carefully. Her eyes widened in understanding.

"Most certainly not." She answered sharply. Her eyes settling on the squirming girl.

"Who ordered you to add that filth into the wine?" Morgianna shook her head.

"No matter. I know who is behind this. Go tell your father that if anything like this ever happens again, he will have to answer to me." She said, letting go of the girl's wrist.

"Get out of my kitchen, you little snake." Venora ordered, watching her as she pushed past the others girls with tars in her eyes.

"I will deal with this. " Morgianna said quietly, looking at the other woman. "Not a word."

"Not a word." Venora said, nodding her head, her eyes fixing on Tristan, who still stood behind them in silence.

"Thank you."

When Morgianna and Tristan stepped out of the kitchen, Galahad hurried towards them.

"Milady, your brother has been looking for you."

"What is it?"

"A messenger arrived, there are three ships at the coast."  
Morgianna nodded. She would have to deal with her discovery later.

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"He has come a long way." Morgianna remarked.  
They stood at the edge of a cliff, looking down at the richly attired party that was making its way up a narrow path from the stony bay below. Morgianna had never met Morholt, lord of the Isles before. But his reputation spoke for itself.

"What does he want?" Arthur asked, shielding his eyes from the wind.

"That is something I cannot tell you yet. We will have to wait until he tells you."

"You do not trust him…" Arthur stated with satisfaction. His sister was a hard woman to read, but he was starting to understand that the things she did not say often spoke volumes.

She turned to him. "I do not know him."

"But you do not trust that his intentions are good."

"Neither do you. " She said with a proud smile.

They looked towards Morholt and his party again. The wind had wrestled a shawl from the only female member of the group. The garment flew away, dragged by the wind and let the fiery mass of hair it had covered spill forth. Morgianna closed her eyes, feeling her heart break. There was no mistaking the young woman. She had seen her before in her dreams. She had seen her tall, slender figure, her pale, freckled skin and her full, red tresses. She had seen her tear stained face, her fierce pride ... She had seen her heartbreak.

As though sensing that something was amiss, Arthur touched his sister's cold hand.

"Morgianna?" She took a deep, steadying breath.

"Morholt has brought his most valuable bargaining chip."

"The girl?"

"His niece …Isseult."


End file.
